Fate
by wbss21
Summary: Loki always knew how this story was going to end.
1. Chapter 1

**Fate**

**Chapter 1:**

This felt like fate to him.

And he had had many dreams of fate.

Since the days of his greater youth; since only boyhood…

The days when it was proven to him his physical inferiority.

Weakness frowned upon and derided by the very foundation upon which Asgard was built, and so too all its inhabitants.

It was in his greater youth, Loki had first felt the heat of rejection and distain.

First sensed the shove backwards from the hands of those he'd for so longed wished friendship of.

They wanted nothing to do with a child so unfitting. A boy outmatched in sparring by even the realms great female warrior, to say nothing of the other boys and men.

A boy who found his only strengths in neglected and shunned practices of study and magic and matters of the mind.

Exercises intended for the fairer of beings among them.

And yet there too, Loki had failed, and brought embarrassment. For the shame of his slightly built frame, and delicate, sharp features.

No man should look as soft as he.

As fragile…

He had had many dreams of fate…

And in these dreams, always he appeared as he was. Called before the Norn's, standing to hear his path. To receive from them a destiny he never had any power in. Weaving for him in an unending tapestry his own suffering and eternal defeat. His place of nowhere, belonging to nothing.

The scorn of all, for no one could ever love the trickster king.

No one could ever love a God of chaos.

A silver-tongued beast from whose lips past the slyest of untruths, he could keep no friends.

And never know anything of victory…

This felt like fate to him…

He glanced down, eyes settling over the shined silver link of chain, connecting across and attaching his two, binding cuffs, digging deep and unrelenting into the thin skin of his knobby wrists.

Another chain hung down from that one, connecting to the manacles adorning his ankles, equally as tight and uncomfortable.

And across his thin and gaunt face, still ravaged and bruised by the actions of war, _his _war, the suffocating press of a finely detailed muzzle, to keep that silver tongue of his from weaving more lies, from attacks of manipulation and mental unraveling. And keeping still his lips from uttering words of sorcery.

Thor had brought him here.

To his bed chamber.

Unchanged, he had quickly observed, from when last he'd been in this place, more than a year earlier.

They'd left it undisturbed, and Loki had been caught in the thought of superstition.

Best leave the monsters things be, lest we draw him back from the clutches of Hela herself.

Loki hadn't looked at his brother…

His brother…

He hadn't looked at him, and he hadn't known why.

Thor had spoken some ridiculous, sentimental words to him, had pulled him against his broad chest, his giant, meat hook of a hand cradling the back of his head and whispering against his ear.

Loki had stood stark still, making no gesture to pull away, making no gesture to return the embrace.

He'd said nothing.

Nothing still as he'd felt Thor's arms pull tighter around him, or heard his breath shudder from his throat in some desperate and pathetic longing.

His eyes fixed to the floor as finally the older God had pulled away from him, lingering a moment, his hands on his little brother's shoulders, trying in vain to catch his gaze, to look at him.

But Loki had refused to lift his face.

To acknowledge Thor at all.

He didn't know why…

Until finally the thunder God had turned, and moved away.

Until he had vanished through the doubled doors of Loki's bed chamber, protected from without by two, well built guards, yielding to Thor's retreat. Loki knowing he would not be afforded the same.

He'd looked around, eyes flitting and absent over the contents of his room, not really seeing.

Not focused.

He hadn't expected to be brought here.

Maybe he didn't know what he'd expected, beyond some vague and brutal imagining of the punishment he doubtless deserved.

He'd imagined being walked into the thrown room. The place he'd once stood, side by side with those who'd he'd once allied himself with.

The place he'd once sat, however briefly, and ruled this kingdom from.

But that was a fools notion.

The liesmith deluding himself.

For no one had ever considered him their king.

No one had ever deferred to or followed his judgment.

He'd imagined his father.

His _father_…

Odin, perched high and looking down upon him, all the world's disappointment and pain and further still, disgust, etched into his old and ravaged face.

Hatred for the boy he'd once dared to call his son.

And his final judgment. His punishment for the child who dared in turn to bring shame to the name of the All-Father and his shining city.

And the royal court, all of Odin's many advisors and men of council, there as well to pass judgment on him, openly this time, and not in glares askance and hushed whispers behind his back, as it had been before.

And Frigga… his mother, unable to raise her eyes to him, and for that alone, he would have felt his only, true regret.

But none of that had as yet happened.

He turned, glancing towards his bed, small and the sheets rumpled. The only thing changed. And somehow he knew Thor has slept there.

He made his way towards it, having to stutter his steps to keep from falling, the clink of the chains as they moved with him and touched.

The sound of his defeat.

His eyes closed as he sank against the mattress, onto his knees, letting himself crumple onto his side.

And he thought then he would like to sleep.

If he could sleep.

But rest is a companion lost to him now. He knows that.

He hasn't slept well in so many, many months.

And the chains and the cuffs and manacles and the muzzle are all so very, very uncomfortable, biting against his battered skin with unkind pressure.

He's sure if any of the restraints were any tighter, then surely they would draw his blood.

But he lets his eyes stay closed anyway, and after a long while, he can actually feel unconsciousness pulling at his minds corners, his weary form growing heavier with it, his thoughts dampening. And he allows himself to hope for those fleeting moments he may, for the time, find some sort of peace.

But it wouldn't be so.

His eyes shot open as if the action were automatic, simply waiting for the command as he heard the chamber door push open, loud and heavy on its hinges, and in an instant, the sleep was gone from his blood, and he is wide awake.

He turned, struggling to right himself, his gaze falling over the two guards who had entered, and the two others, new, that stood just back from them.

Sitting up straighter, and he thought…

"_Ah, so now they come_."

He didn't move further as the front two continued towards him, the others remaining by the door.

Made no gesture of protest as they took rough hold of his thin arms and yanked him up from the bed.

Behind the muzzle, he smirked, his upturned lips quickly dying then into a frown.

There was a time it might have been considered treason, to lay hands so unkindly upon a prince of Asgard.

The frown deepened as he thought, "_No_…"

Because that wasn't true either.

Memories clung to his mind with unforgiving clarity.

The taunts of other children, younger and older than he alike.

And all the many times… so many times…

Unkind hands _were_ laid upon him. The weak, younger son. The silver-tongued freakish ghoul. Dark haired and paled skinned. The one who seemed so strangely at odds with the shining, beautiful first prince, glowing and golden. The favored prince. More handsome and strong, and skilled in the ways a man of Asgard _should_ be.

Loki had never been a prince here.

Because he never remembered any of them laying a hand upon Thor the way they had him.

None of them had _dared_.

He was pushed forward, hard, and it was no surprise to anyone when the lank of chain between his feet yanked at his balance and pulled him down, crashing him to his knees.

His hands shot out reflexively, catching himself just before his forehead could make contact with the hard marble of the floor.

He expected laughter, but there came none.

Only their hands on him again, pulling him back up and telling him…

"Move."

Another shove, not as forceful, and Loki stumbled, managing just barely to stay on his feet this time.

As they walked, the halls of the palace seemed empty, and it was only by virtue of the dim-lit torches lining the many, thick columns that Loki became aware of night having fallen, and he supposed then most of the places occupants must be sleeping or in some other way retired to their chambers.

Had he lost so thorough track of time?

Loki had used to pride himself on his awareness.

But lately… lately, it seemed everything now was slipping from his grasp.

It became quickly apparent, as they continued on, they were leading him from the palace, out into the courtyard, and Loki, for a moment, hesitated.

"_Where are you taking me?_" He thought to ask, but no voice came, blocked by the metal stretched across his mouth.

So instead he pulled back slightly against the hold of their hands, grasping tightly along his forearms, staring at them with questioning eyes.

And they understood.

"Your King has ordered your public display. You are to be chained in the town square and openly flogged."

Loki felt his jaw lock tight.

His body stiffen.

But it wasn't fear which he felt flood his veins.

Only contempt.

His _father_ then would be dictating his punishment from afar.

Loki couldn't keep the notion of it being cowardice from entering his mind.

He knew to speak against the All-Father in such a way, here, would only lead to his further torment.

But cowardly it seemed.

The man who had claimed to so care for him, and love him, and desire only his protection with his _lies_…

He wouldn't now grace the once prince with his presence, nay, even his direct acknowledgement.

Apparently, Loki thought with bitter resentment, the All-Father's _son_ didn't warrant enough importance for him to personally see to his own judgments upon him. Didn't garner the required respect or deservedness of in the least having his penance explained to him.

Odin would simply order his torture from his lofty distance, and deny Loki even the chance to conduct himself in dignity before the king and his court. To accept his punishment in silent stoicism.

He was to be robbed, even of this.

And Loki couldn't help then the too familiar and unwanted heat which spread through his insides, the burning of insignificance and inconsequentiality.

The pain of disconnect.

… Alone…

His eyes closed, trying to push the discomfort away, letting himself without struggle be pulled forward, outside the palace walls, the warm air of night touching upon his skin.

Somehow it felt cold…

And he found himself wondering at the decision to take him out now, when the streets of the city would be mostly abandoned.

A less cynical being than him might consider it a kindness, that he not be paraded before jeering and hate filled crowds, but the God of lies knew the purpose of it was practical and nothing more.

It would be easier, without the distraction and threat of a mob gathering, to string him up and prepare him, and leave him to the people's derision in the morning.

Loki felt nothing at this.

He wouldn't allow himself.

For he knew it was his humiliation they sought, and if these enchanted binds were to keep him from his magic, his only defense then was to give them nothing.

He would not react.

Loki had been flogged before.

As a child.

Those times when he and Thor had gotten themselves into trouble, and it had always been him, him, him who Odin had blamed. The mischief maker, the liesmith, the one you must not trust.

It was Loki they always suspected.

Loki then who was always punished.

Even those times…

Those times Thor had insisted it were his own folly, as so often it was, seeking adventure as he had, dragging his protesting, younger sibling along into it.

And Loki had been flogged.

And the thought of it now brought him no, real unease.

Only that…

Only that before, it had been within the walls of the palace, away from the gaze of the public.

A private matter. One only Odin and Frigga and Thor, and those guards charged with carrying out the task had ever known.

As was the punishment of any member of royalty.

It was the commoner criminals who were made public displays of, public examples, to dissuade any such deviant behavior from spreading.

And was that what he was now?

A commoner?

No… no…

He was less than that even, wasn't he?

An outcast.

Made an example of for a kind of insidious entertainment.

The thought of this instead, not the physical pain to come, caused an unpleasant drop down through his stomach.

But he wouldn't show it.

He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't…

He wouldn't be _weak_.

And so he swallowed the sickness down, and continued forward.

It would take a long time more before they had reached the town square, Loki's chained feet making it impossible to move faster. And there, they brought him to a stone pillar, located in near the absolute center, familiar to Loki, for the times he'd come to gaze upon it, and wonder at the cruelty of such a device.

Other manacles hung from it, embedded in the stone deep, and bolted down by iron.

And the column was thick with the smell of blood, clinging in darkened shade to the rock, despite having been doused and scrubbed after each, fresh wave of it.

The stain of those who had been chained there could never be fully washed away.

Loki had used to frown, face lining in disgust as he would come out and gaze upon this thing. At the methods of torture implemented by what was meant to be a _sophisticated _people.

It had seemed barbaric to him, as it was when he would undergo the same. Though with him, and those occasions when Thor had been subjected the same, it was afterwards they would be free to go, and never had they been restrained against cold, unyielding stone.

Loki remembered arguing against the All-father once, so very, very long ago, and so foolhardy an endeavor, he'd come to realize immediately afterwards. He'd made clear his disapproval of such practices, of whipping chained men against rocks, surrounded by the gathering throngs to be laughed and jeered at, their misery made an amusement.

"_It reflects poorly among our kind._" He'd said, voice low and calm. "_Are we not meant to be above such practice? Are we not meant to lead by example those less advanced than we, and move the realms forward from the barbarity of war and cruelty?_"

Odin had not been pleased.

The error on Loki's part, he recalled, had been addressing his grievances before a group of gathered advisors, challenging his father's rule and authority before the court and so, he supposed, undermining his power.

That had not been his intention.

He had come that day from this very place, from having witnessed the carrying out of the exact sentence which he himself was now to suffer.

He was the only member of the royal family who had ever dared to expose himself to it. And he remembered the hushed whispers of those he passed by, their words of accusation and mistrust, their eyes askance, glaring at him with both distain and fear, shifting away whenever he glanced back.

They'd thought he did it out of desire. Some depraved need to see the suffering of others. Because didn't that just go along with his very nature?

Loki, the mischievous.

Loki the liar.

Loki the destroyer.

But that hadn't been true.

It _hadn't _been.

There'd been a time…

There'd been a time when it had _pained_ him so. When it had afflicted the dead thing now residing in his chest. The thing which had once been his heart. To see the cruelty of his own people. To realize it in his own father.

Loki had once been a gentle thing.

He's sure of it.

He can remember.

He'd once been so very, very gentle.

War… war…

Violence and war…

He'd shied away from them.

From combat and battle and glory, glory, _glory_…

_Thor's_ glory…

He'd never understood any of it.

The need for blood…

He'd once been so gentle…

And Odin had punished him for this.

Hadn't they all?

With sneering expressions and hateful eyes.

Loki had watched the torture out of a need to understand.

But he never had. No matter how many times he saw it executed.

The reason for it only confusing further.

Until that day, and his confusion had at last overwhelmed him, and he'd protested to his father, and he'd been punished.

Loki thought maybe it had been that day when something inside him had begun to harden.

When he'd felt the whip coming down across his exposed back, tearing lines of red into his white, white skin. And his teeth had gritted, and he'd choked down his cries.

He thought maybe he'd felt something like betrayal that day…

He was brought back to the present when he felt the shackles round his wrists being tampered with, his eyes lifting, watching as one of the guards undid the cuff round his right wrist. And there was a release of pressure, a stinging relief along his bruising skin as the metal came away.

They wouldn't undo them completely, he knew, lest his magic be returned to him.

And he could kill them all so very easily if it were.

He stood motionless then as two of the other guards came near, the third holding to the chain, still pulling along his left wrist, and they began with invasive hands to undo the armor and leather incasing his upper half.

Loki stared ahead of himself absently, his eyes fixing over some indistinct spot beyond, feeling the layers as they were stripped from him.

Feeling his size decrease with each piece peeled away.

He was so thin underneath it all.

So small…

… A Jotun _runt_.

He frowned, barely noticing as they pulled his right arm free, leaving one half of him exposed before replacing the cuff, undoing the other and removing the rest of his upper garments, at last leaving his torso bare.

He only came back to their actions when he felt his feet kicked violently apart, and a heavy hand shoving down against his shoulder, forcing him to his knees.

And suddenly he was being jerked forward by the hands, slid against the ground and his arms pulled about the thick column. His face and chest pressed cruelly against the cold stone as they hooked the manacles embedded in the rock to his own, locking him in place, leaving no real room to maneuver. He was nearly flush against the pillar, pulled taught. And he knew, when the whip came down, there would be no yield in it for him. No way to slacken against the harsh, leather instrument.

He would bear the full brunt of it then.

But not tonight.

Not until the city was awash in the light of morning, and Asgard's citizens had poured into the streets once more.

Loki understood he would be left to their ridicule for all the hours until the noon hour struck.

And it was then he would be laid waste to.

It would be then his punishment truly began…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

His mouth is dry.

It is so dry, he finds himself unable to swallow. Unable even to wet to his sore throat, or to make his tongue shift behind his teeth.

The mask, he thinks in absent and bitter amusement, is hardly necessary then.

He couldn't have spoken well enough in that moment for it to matter.

Not for it to be a danger to anyone but himself, for the shame of his normally deft and rapid articulation falling into slurred and clumsy words.

His lids close, and he is all too aware of the ache of his eyes behind them.

They _burn_.

Thick and heavy moisture gathers at their edges, hanging there, and his lids squeeze tighter, trying to press the tears back, failing as they slip an instant later, and they feel like fire down his cheeks.

The sound of the whip cutting the air meets his ears before, for the dozenth time, he feels the agony of it, now instead cutting his skin, tearing it wide. And his teeth grit, coming together so hard he thinks surely they would crack, his face screwing up at the blazing radiation of pain which shoots sharp and unforgiving across the whole of him.

He feels his throat constrict with the scream, threatening to break loose from his vocal cords. But he swallows it back down, focusing what little energy he has left to do so, sputtering against the metal encasing his jaw.

And his body trembles.

Fresh warmth spreads across his back, the warmth searing for the knowledge that it is his own blood, trickling down the sides of him, onto the pavement cruel beneath his knees. And an unheard gasp was all that passed his lips then, pressed back by the gag.

Even if he did scream, no one would know.

No one but him.

And it is for himself now he struggles against it.

He would _not _scream.

He would _not _be weak.

"_Do not be weak Loki… Do not be what they wish of you…_"

But still his mind protests, disgust curling its way through him for the way he _shakes _so viciously. The way his body betrays him and trembles uncontrolled, like some small and pathetic child, without strength, without power. And how his face gives away without consent just how very _much_ he hurts.

He cannot feign total apathy, and his thoughts rage against it. Against the idea that this place and its people have hold over him still.

But their laughter and shouting is proof enough of it.

Those citizens of Asgard, gathered round him and riotous for how their once unwanted prince shrinks beneath the lashes and their own, forceful taunts.

"Where now is your wit, great _Loki_?"

"Have you nothing anymore to say? No fanciful words to worm your way out?"

"Has that silver tongue of yours at last turned to lead?"

"He has nothing without his words! You see? He is useless without his dark spells!"

"Useless indeed without his tricks! Without his treacherous tongue and treasonous magicks!"

"He has no defense without those things! A sorry example of one born of Aesir!"

"Oh, but have you not heard? The rumors on high! He is no son born of fire! But one born of ice! The bastard spawn of King Laufy!"

And there is an eruption of jeers, fierce screams and shocked gasps, anger and betrayal and hatred swirling among the gathered crowd.

And Loki keeps his eyes closed, pushing down in him the depths of his own shame, pushing away their words of realization and prideful comprehension, as if the thought hadn't _just_ dawned upon them.

"I always knew there was something not right about him!"

"Then his treachery comes as no surprise! His wretchedness was always clear!"

"Devil's spawn! Monstrous thing! He should be slain where he sits!"

"He should be slain! For surely otherwise he will be the end of us all!"

"If he could end his own father, then surely!"

He blocks it out.

He tries.

If ever there were a thing he had found pride in, it was in his ability to control.

And what ever could he hope to control if not himself?

And he would not listen…

He would not yield…

The noise fades as he focuses only on the cracking of the whip, the sound of it as it splits his flesh anew. Focuses on that only, and the pain of it against his back.

For the pain of it is nothing then compared to their words, and the knowledge of what he knows himself to be…

And he hardly notices it when they begin throwing rotted fruit against him.

He hardly notices at all…

/

He has nothing left in him now…

Slumped against the pillar, body emptied of whatever tension had before filled it.

Whatever strength…

And he lay now, broken there, flush still against the stone, nowhere to fall besides.

The crowd has by then mostly dispersed.

At least, that is what Loki thinks.

His eyes had been closed so long now, under the heat of the sun and press of so many bodies, the fire of his lashing, that his lids now felt as though they'd been welded shut, sticking and crusted to his face.

He wasn't sure if he could open them now, even if he wanted to.

But he doesn't want to.

Because even though most of the noise of the crowd has dissipated, and things have grown so much quieter, and it's been hours he's sure since the man charged with carrying out his flogging has gone, there are _still_ people there.

Still a few holdovers, snickering and he thinks pointing, muttering and whispering.

And throwing things still.

Loki tries not to flinch when he feels something soft and wet collide with his right temple. But he does anyway, and the mirth which follows tells him so.

A little more of this, a few minutes longer, more sopping mush smacking and sliding from his face and body, and he thinks with burning cheeks that this will likely go on all night, or until his remaining assailants grow bored.

He isn't sure the latter option would make him feel better, the thought of losing even that usefulness.

"Are you in want of sustenance, _Prince _Loki?"

Suddenly, one of the voices is right in front of him, mocking, just inches away, and involuntarily he jerks, trying to turn his face from them.

He feels harsh fingers curl tight into his hair though, and suddenly, he's being pulled back forward, the fingers digging and pulling cruelly against his scalp.

"Then won't you have a meal fit for a _king_?" The voice laughs, and Loki can smell the spoiled fruit before it ever touches his face.

And then he can feel it, being smeared over his lids and across his nose and cheeks and forehead, and he begins to try pulling his head free of the fingers, to twist away.

But he's too weak now, and he can't break loose, and he begins to gag as the smell of the rotten fruit fills his nostrils, a sickening nausea building up from the pit of his stomach at the foulness of it, bile threatening at the thick and clumsy fingers pressing and racking and kneading against the muscles of his face.

And Loki feels violated in some hideous way he can't quite explain now.

Dizzyingly exposed…

He keeps his eyes closed, because he doesn't want to see.

And he just wants this to stop…

He just wants…

There's a harsh gasp in front of him, a strangled cry, sliding into a whimper, and the voice which was before mocking is suddenly begging, entreating desperately to someone else.

"Please, your grace, I did not mean…"

"You will _not_ place your hands upon a son of Odin again!" Thor's voice booms like thunder, and the man falls silent. And Loki can't decide how he should feel.

Relief washes through him, such utter relief, he almost wants to sob, and immediately to follow, he feels disgust for it. Consuming rage for his own weakness.

How _pathetic _he is.

He keeps his eyes closed still, turning his face away from where he hears the struggle, and again, his brothers voice.

"You will stay away from here, tiny peasant. You will _not_ return."

The man doesn't answer, and Loki thinks he must have nodded his compliance, as a moment later, there is the sound of him being thrown to the ground, and then feet scampering, another fall, until finally, he can hear him running away.

"That goes for all of you!" Thor again commands, and a moment later, there are several sets of footfalls, moving quickly and out.

Loki goes perfectly still.

He doesn't know why.

Only maybe this strange sense that, if he doesn't move, Thor won't notice him there. Thor won't see him. And he might be spared the absolute humiliation of this moment.

Might be spared the reminder of his own lack of worth when compared to the shining first son.

The _only_ true son…

But it doesn't work, as suddenly, Loki feels warm, strong hands take hold of his face, cradling it gently, their handling in sharp contrast to the rough and blistered calluses he can feel along the palms from centuries of battles and sparring and fighting…

"Loki…" Thor speaks his name in a hushed whisper, as though it were something sacred, delicately as though trying to avoid hurting his already throbbing and ringing ears, still suffering the affects of the crowds from earlier, their shouting and screaming and laughing, laughing, laughing.

And Loki can hear the pity in Thor's own voice, and he wants to pull away.

But he doesn't move, and he doesn't open his eyes.

And he can feel a terrible heat spreading through him, like absolute embarrassment, and he wishes in that moment more than anything he had his magic so he could just vanish into a puff of smoke.

Into a puff of nothing…

"Odin's stones, look what they've done to you." He again hears Thor's voice, and it's thick with agony, like it's him who's been chained to a stone pillar and flogged repeatedly for the last, several hours.

"Loki, can you hear me?" Thor speaks again, his hands holding firmer.

Loki feels his thick thumbs pressing over his cheekbones, smoothing up, into his tangled and blood spattered hair, drenched now in sweat.

"Brother, please, open your eyes. Look at me."

But Loki doesn't want to. He doesn't want to look at Thor.

He doesn't want Thor there now.

He wants him to go away.

"_Please, please, leave me be_…"

But Thor isn't letting him go, and Loki knows he can't convey to his brother, his… his brother what he wants without looking at him. Without sending the message through his eyes.

"_Loki_…" the hands grip firmer still, desperate. "I implore you, do not shut me out…"

And finally… finally, Loki forces his lids to lift, the effort seeming impossibly hard, like the folds of skin are clinging with clawed fingers, reluctant to let go.

It takes a moment, his vision blurred and unfocused before, finally, he sees Thor's beautiful, handsome face in front of him, inches away, his blue, blue eyes looking back with so much _concern_.

And Loki feels sick.

He really, really feels sick.

A wave of dizziness rushes through his head, and he sways, even in Thor's grip, and Thor must realize it, because in an instant, his eyes go wide in alarm, and he isn't hesitating as his fingers reach around to the back of Loki's head, and he's pressing down against the gags lock mechanism, unlatching it.

Loki thinks briefly that it's a dangerous endeavor on the thunder God's part, and that surely he's going to land himself in trouble for his foolishness. Odin won't be pleased to know his heir is acting in direct defiance to his dictums.

But the thought is fleeting, and Loki can't think anymore as he's consumed with the sensation of his stomach leaping up through his throat, the foul taste of acidic bile washing up rapidly into his mouth.

Thor's trying to pull the metal away from his face quickly, but it isn't fast enough, and half of the vomit gets forced back down before the mask is removed completely, and Loki gags on it, sputtering and hacking as what's left dribbles out past his lips, rivulets of his saliva hanging disgusting from his lower lip.

Feebly, he tries turning his head away, barely registering the clatter of the mask as Thor throws it to the ground.

He has scarcely a moment to rest before what was forced down forces its way back up again, and once more, he's vomiting, more violently this time. Though his stomach is empty, and all that comes out is a brownish liquid.

It's the humiliation of it which tastes most bitter.

Which makes his skin burn hot as though he'd been tossed into the fires of Muspelheim.

And Loki thinks how very bad that would be for him, because… because he's an _frost giant_, and the heat would surely kill him without his magic to… to protect him and…

And there's a sudden and irrational moment of panic which blooms in his heart at the thought that Odin may cast him out to there as punishment, and he knows the pain will be the most vicious he's ever felt before death finally takes him in her merciful grasp.

He doesn't understand why the thought frightens him so, because he isn't afraid to die.

He isn't afraid of _that_.

"Brother…" Thor's deep voice is against his ear, hushed as much as it can be, and Loki curses himself for flinching as his ox of a would be sibling folds his arm across his mangled back, trying to sit him up straighter.

The pain is dizzying, and he can't believe Thor's stupidity in not _realizing _how much he's hurting him.

But then, Thor never was any good at realizing the consequences of his own actions, and it's what Loki's always most resented about him, he thinks.

Thor finally gets it as he shifts an arm, and Loki can't help the sharp gasp which pushes past his lips.

"I'm sorry!" The thunder God says quickly, worriedly. "Am I hurting you?"

Loki thinks to say something belittling of his lacking intelligence, but all that comes out is a gurgled hiss of a breath.

And he doesn't know why it's only then he becomes suddenly aware of the release of pressure against his face, and the settling soreness of where the mask had been digging against his skin.

Only then becoming aware that he can _hear_ himself, whether they're actual words his voice forms, or just these ridiculous sounds.

The muzzle's been removed, and he can _speak _again.

And he thinks it's pitiful, really, how that sends such a relief through his insides.

He forgets a moment about how everything hurts, and he says…

"… Thor… remove yourself from me."

His voice comes out a weak and thin rasp, hardly recognizable as his own.

And he supposes he's grateful that Thor can at least follow simple instruction, his arm across his back pulling away. Except that, he's still gripping too tight to Loki's own arm, and if he had the energy, Loki thinks, he would glare angrily at the stronger God and undress him verbally in all the most cutting ways he knew how.

And suddenly he thinks with sickening satisfaction about the single time he'd actually _made_ Thor cry.

After trying for so long with just words…

When he'd gone down to Midgard during his banishment, and told him Odin had died.

And then he thinks…

Then he thinks of all the _many_ times Thor had made _him_ cry…

And all of Thor's _friends_…

His many, many friends…

And how, after a time, he'd fought his hardest never to do it in front of any of them, because that had only brought their further ridicule. And so he'd always turned away, when he could feel the demandable stinging in his eyes, and walk… _try _to walk away, not run, and keep his body from trembling with the emotion welling so disgustingly up inside of him, to keep his throat tight and closed and not let anything out but silence because… because it _hurt_ when they had said those things to him, and it had… it had hurt when they told him he wasn't allowed to play, wasn't going to be included…

It had hurt when they went on as though he weren't _there_…

And he didn't want them to see that it actually _mattered_ to him…

He didn't want them to know he felt anything at all…

That he wished so much… so, so, so much that just once they would look at him like they did his brother.

Like they were actually _happy _to see him.

Look at him with _anything_ more than disregard… with _contempt_.

Loki doesn't quite remember when it was his face had turned to a mask of indifference, his eyes to ice. No expression passing within them when their disparages and exclusions had failed to wane over the centuries.

Only that it had happened, and he'd become so _masterful _at pretending he didn't _care_.

At whipping back at all of them, or striking first even with remarks a thousand times more cutting, because none of them… _none _of them had his perception, or his ability to place observations into words.

And he'd kept that too from his face; from his eyes. The deadening weight and vicious _rage_, when his words, however eloquently spoken and craftily delivered, had failed again and again to rouse in them the same reactions as their clumsy and foolish and _lazy _insults had done with him in his younger days. When they'd simply _laughed_, as though nothing he'd said was of any consequence, because _he_ was of no consequence, and so they'd remained so blithely unaffected by any of it at all.

Because they were _strong _and he was…

"I did not know Father had done this." Thor is talking again. "When I went searching for you in your quarters and found you not there, I demanded Odin tell me what he'd done with you."

He's moving around, bending onto his knees in front of Loki, trying to see his face.

And for the first time since he's been brought back here, Loki allows himself to look back, blinking.

Thor, he notices, looks distressed, his perfect face lined and tight, his eyes filled with puzzlement.

Loki would smirk at it, if he had the strength, and if he knew he himself could evoke anything more than pity in that moment.

But he can't, he realizes, and so instead his eyes fall away, and for a long moment, he says nothing.

"Brother…?" Thor starts again.

"Do not…" Loki hisses, trying vainly to make his voice sound fuller. "do not refer to me as your brother. We are not brothers."

"Loki, please…" Thor pleads, and Loki can see the way his eyes fall over his form, the way his brow furrows in seeming pain.

Loki wants nothing more in that moment then to tell Thor the agony of his wounds now is as nothing compared to the agony of Thor's own, innumerable rejections over the centuries. But then, Thor would again tell him his slights are imagined, and Loki has no doubt in his mind that Thor fully and truly believes this.

He's never been one for introspection. For self-awareness.

He's never _known_ the affect of what he's done.

Loki sometimes thinks he hates Thor most of all for that…

And now Thor's looking away, tearing his gaze from him and shifting it to the ground, like he can't bear the sight of him anymore, and Loki wants to scream and scream at him that he doesn't want his _pity_. He doesn't want his _help_.

"_Not when I asked it of you all those years, when I cried for you to simply pay me mind, and you instead cast me off as a joke, as an annoyance and a hindrance even those times you _needed_ me_."

Instead he only says…

"… Go. Go away from me Thor. The All-Father will not be pleased with you, knowing you aid a traitor of Asgard."

"I do not care what Father thinks." Thor answers quickly, his eyes lifting back up, anger apparent across his features.

"You should." Loki answers.

"But I do not." Thor replies. "What is being done to you is not right."

And at this, Loki actually laughs, a bitter and choked sound which rasps from his dry throat.

"Oh, you are amusing Thor." He says, only spurred on in it from the lost expression across the other God's face. "Your compassion blinds you."

"It does not." Thor insists. "Torture is not the answer. It is not going to solve this."

"You misunderstand then Thor." Loki interjects. "It is not about solving. It is about revenge. And appearances. The guarding of assets and standings."

Thor's face falls in frustrated incomprehension, his lips pulling into a deep frown. For a long moment, he pauses, silent, and Loki can _see _his brain working.

And then he says, broad and sure, the loss disappearing from his eyes…

"It does not matter!"

And just like that, Thor is all confidence and surety again.

"Torture is not right. It does not _matter _what you did. I will not stand for this."

Loki rolls his eyes, unable to help himself.

"You are dangerously naïve Thor." He says, turning away again. And his voice is still strained and thin and barely there.

Thor reaches down, removing a canteen from his hip, unscrewing the lid.

"Here." He says, bringing the nozzle to Loki's dried and cracked lips. "Drink."

Loki turns away again.

"_Loki_…" Thor urges.

Loki doesn't respond, keeping his face turned.

And he hears Thor growl in frustration, and suddenly his powerful hand is clasping against the back of his head, forcing his face back forward, forcing the nozzle of the canteen to his lips.

Loki tries viciously to rip free of the thunder God's grasp, his face twisting in an enraged scowl. And rage turns to unwanted, tingling heat, spreading fast through his insides, the burning of shame at his own weakness, draining the fight utterly from him as he goes limp.

Thor doesn't notice.

Thor never _notices_.

Never sees what he does when he…

The nozzle is being pushed past Loki's lips then, the lukewarm water seeping from it against his tongue, down his throat. And it scorches for how dry his throat is, almost hurts. And to his greater shame, Loki drinks it, he swallows it down almost desperately.

Thor is still holding to the back of his skull, refusing to let him go, to let him move, keeping the canteen tilted, the liquid flowing until Loki can't keep pace with it anymore, and he begins to sputter and choke.

Only then does Thor realize what he's doing, and he pulls the canteen away, his face pulling again in worry as his little brother gasps and coughs, the motion violent through his thin frame.

"Loki, are you…"

"Thor, _leave me be_!" Loki hisses angrily, voice straining still as sporadic hacking continues to force its way from his throat. "Just _go_!"

Thor frowns.

"Loki, I…"

"_GO_!"

And Loki can't take it anymore, he can't stop it. And even as the sob breaks from his lips, he _hates_ himself.

He hates himself so much, it's like suffocating. Like his lungs have nothing in them anymore to breathe.

He turns away again as Thor's hand slips from him, trying and failing to choke down another sob, and his lids close against the wash of tears which well unrelenting and strong in his eyes, blinding his vision.

And he curses himself as they fall, slipping down his hollowed cheeks, burning his pale skin it feels as badly as the whip had against his back.

He wants to cover his face, to hide it behind his hands.

But he can't move them, still shackled to the pillar.

He can't move at all.

And he can't take it anymore.

He can't take it at all…

"… Go…" he cries, voice so soft, it's nearly lost on the air as nothing.

/

**So, I just wanted to give a big thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed and favorited my story here. I've never written anything outside of the Batman universe, so this so far has been a bit of a challenge for me. But I'm having loads of fun trying it, and I'm glad some of you seem to like it! I, along with many others of course, was taken with Tom Hiddleston's performance of Loki in both Thor and The Avengers. Just a brilliant actor, and he made me fall in love with the character. So I wanted to give it a go.**

**I love hearing from my readers, so if you can or want to leave a review, please do, and I'll try getting back to you. I've been a bit busy lately, which is why I haven't been responding to everyone. But I'll do my best to do so from now on. Thanks so much again to everyone!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, sorry for the delay in this chapter. And I'm sorry for failing to get back to all of you on your lovely reviews. Regrettably, I've been pretty busy lately with other stuff, so I haven't had the chance to respond to much, but I appreciate them more than you know, and I promise that any reviews you leave for this chapter, I'll respond to as quickly as possible.**

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 3:**

_He looked after where they had disappeared from his view, over the crest of the hill he now stood at the foot of, his hand held over his eyes to block the high afternoon sun from them._

_They narrowed in frustration, though for who, he wouldn't say, before blowing a sigh past his lips and dropping his arm, head shaking._

_Well, if Thor and his friends weren't willing to slow their course for him, he wouldn't be willing to strain himself to catch up. And if he felt an uncomfortable heat pool in the pit of his stomach at the thought, he would push that aside and pretend very well that it wasn't there._

_He hadn't wanted to go on this damned adventure anyway._

_He didn't understand why the concept of no was one so hard to grasp for seemingly so many._

_He'd been perfectly content that morning, sitting in his bed chamber, reading his book, when Thor had come bursting through the doors, Sif and the Warriors following suit, laughing loudly and making a ruckus which still made Loki's head throb in annoyance._

"_Brother, today we quest!" Thor had proclaimed loudly, smile broad across his handsome, still developing face._

_He'd begun just a few weeks earlier to show the first signs of facial hair, and he bore the wisps proudly, ridiculous looking as they were, to which Loki hadn't hesitated to point out on numerous occasions. _

_Thor had proclaimed him merely jealous, obvious, he's said, for the fact of his younger brothers still smooth as a newborns skin._

_Loki hadn't given him the pleasure of telling him it was true, nor the humiliation of acknowledging to himself the same._

_He'd remained seated, cross legged on his bed, not bothering to look up from the book in his hands, or to speak._

_After a long moment, he'd heard Fandral sigh heavily before cutting in._

"_Thor, he doesn't want to, and besides all that, you know he'll only slow us down."_

"_You'll watch your tongue Fandral, and take care how you speak of my brother." Thor had turned to him, replying sharply._

_Fandral, ever arrogant and full of confidence, had persisted._

"_But it is only truth!" He'd insisted. "You know your brother to be physically weak. If we take him with us, we shall never reach the mark before sunset."_

_Thor had turned fully towards his friend then, mouth pulled into a deep frown, anger ready to burst from his lips and put Fandral in his place._

_But Loki had spoken before he'd ever gotten the chance._

"_No Thor," he'd said softly, his voice barely catching in the air. "he's right. I'm weak…" He'd looked up from his book then finally, eyes locking hard on Fandral. "and I shall only impede your progress should you drag me along."_

_For a moment, the room had fallen into silence, the eyes of everyone settling over the younger prince, staring back, until at last, Loki shrugged, moving his gaze back to his book._

"_And anyway, I don't wish to go." He'd finished, turning a page. "I was well entertained before you lot invited yourselves into my _private_ chambers."_

_Predictably, he heard Thor laugh, loudly and amused, thinking his brother was having a joke._

"_Well then Loki," he'd begun, stepping closer. "it shall only do you good then to quest. How do you ever intend to grow strong like me and the Warriors if you sit and read all day?"_

"_I don't…" Loki had replied flatly, and Thor had laughed again._

"_Come now brother, don't be silly." He'd gone on, clearly not picking up on what Loki thought were rather obvious signals that he wanted to be left alone. "You have all the time in the world for your ridiculous books. Come with me and we will find glory this day!"_

_Loki had sighed, turning another page._

"_Loki…"_

"_Thor, I do not wish to…"_

_Before he could get the words fully from his mouth, his older brother had closed the distance between them and snatched the book right out of his hands, pulling a near silent gasp from him, his eyes widening._

"_Thor, give that back!" He'd snapped, lunging to take it._

_But Thor, as always, had been too quick, turning and laughing as he flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in confusion._

"_What language is this?" He'd asked after a moment, turning the book this way and that, as though to do so might decipher the words on the page to him._

_Loki had huffed, trying to calm himself and failing miserably._

"_No language you know. Now give it back Thor!"_

"_No."_

"_Thor!"_

_Sif and the Warriors had begun to chuckle, not bothering to cover their amusement at the younger prince's dilemma. _

_Loki had felt his cheeks burn as Thor had held the book high above his head, out of his brothers reach, and eventually, Loki had given up, sinking back down to the bed, folding his arms across his thin chest and looking away, praying to whoever that his embarrassment wasn't too obvious._

_Thor had eyed him a long moment then, frowning, before finally, he'd brought the book back down, tossing it onto the bed._

"_I only jest brother." He'd said. "You shouldn't be so sensitive." _

"_I'm not!" Loki had snapped, voice rising, breaking slightly._

_Volstagg had laughed loudly, and Loki had shot him a glare before reaching out and taking back his book, cradling it against his stomach._

"_Well, no matter." Thor had gone on, as though the entire incident mattered nothing. "You're coming with us, and that is my decision."_

"_Thor, I've told you, I do not wish…"_

_But before he'd been able to finish, Thor had taken hold of his wrist and pulled him from the bed, refusing to hear anymore._

_And that was how he'd ended up here, at the bottom of this blasted hill, breathing heavy from having tried his damndest to keep pace._

_Loki wondered at Thor's sincerity in wanting him along on these absurd endeavors of his, when each time lately, he became so consumed in the task of success and exploration, he seemed to forget Loki was there at all, charging ahead undeterred and unfaltering, whether his younger brother was able to stay at his side or not._

_Even Sif and the Warriors Three had to put in an effort to stay with Thor when he got like this. But unlike him, they were able to accomplish the task with seeming ease._

_Sighing, and taking his eyes from the top of the hill finally, Loki began his trudge up it, hoping silently that they hadn't gotten too far ahead and vanished completely. He would never hear the end of it from Thor's companions if he lost them and was forced to go back to the palace on his own._

_Finally, after what seemed far too great a time, and much too strained an effort, Loki reached the hills top._

_His eyes had been fixed down on his way up, watching his feet cut across the wild blades of tall grass, his boots growing wet and heavy from yesterdays rain. He didn't even see Fandral as he stepped over the crest, his only warning the sound of feet rushing forward, his eyes flicking up in time to see the slightly older boy upon him before he let loose a feral scream._

"_ARGHHH!" Fandral cried, and for the briefest of moments, Loki's eyes went wide as saucers, a sharp gasp escaping past his lips as he reared back._

_And then he was falling, his footing having been lost, and he was crashing back down the hill, rolling violently and uncontrolled to its bottom._

_Fandral laughed loudly, along with Volstagg and Sif. Hogun remained quiet, motionless and watching._

_Thor had turned to see what the noise was about, doing so in time only to catch the sight of Loki flailing backwards, disappearing a moment later out of his sight, and his own eyes had gone wide in alarm, hesitating only a second before dashing forward, blowing past his friends, stopping and staring in horror for only an instant as he watched his little brother crash across the hard ground before coming to a stop at the bottom, splayed and prone against his face and stomach. Not moving._

_Thor ran, crying out Loki's name as Sif and the Warriors all exchanged unsure glances before following after._

"_Loki! Loki, are you injured?" Thor gasped desperately, reaching his brother in a matter of seconds, falling to the ground beside him and reaching out._

_Loki moaned in pain, his arms shifting beneath him as he attempted to push himself up._

_The taste of copper filled his mouth, followed quickly by a sharp sting through his tongue, and he realized he must have bitten it in his surprise, anger and frustration filling him as he realized that later it would be sore. Along with every other part of him._

"_Do not move Loki." Thor ordered, his hands falling over the younger prince's shoulders, attempting to help him. "You may be hurt."_

"_I'm fine!" Loki hissed lowly, trying to pull away._

"_You are not…" Thor insisted._

_At last, the others reached them, stopping a few feet behind the two brothers, watching._

_Thor turned, face contorted in anger as he glared at Fandral._

"_How could you do such a thing?" He asked hotly, his hands still grasping Loki's thin shoulders. "You know him to be fragile! He cannot take such a fall!"_

_Fandral assumed a look of innocence and surprise._

"_It was only in jest!" He defended. "How was I to know he would react with such fright?"_

_Thor's eyes narrowed._

"_You knew." He said plainly._

"_Pff." Fandral waved him off. "And what does it matter if I did? It serves your brother well for turning my mead to baking powder last week."_

"_You are too young for mead yet Fandral!" Sif laughed._

"_Yes, you mean your ginger ale!" Volstagg boomed._

_Fandral smiled sharply, shrugging._

"_Well, the point…"_

"_The point is that you have wronged my brother!" Thor cut him off, voice drowning all of theirs. "A silly prank should not be repaid through physical harm!"_

"_It is fine Thor." Loki cut in, finally having managed to push himself to a sitting position. "I am fine."_

"_You are not." Thor answered, looking back to him._

"_I am!" The younger prince insisted. "Now let me up."_

_He began to push himself to his feet, shrugging Thor's hands from his shoulders._

_He'd barely made it past his knees before a sharp pain through his lower back caused him to gasp out and collapse back down, trying to choke back the cry which threatened at the bottom of his throat._

"_Loki!"_

_Fandral laughed._

"_A fine prince of ours you make!" He said to the smaller boy. "However will you grow to be a warrior of Asgard when you come to bruise so easily?"_

_Thor was about to speak when Loki cut him short, his face twisting in heated emotion as he turned to look at Fandral._

"_I'll make a finer warrior than you!" He spat, losing hold of his calm._

_Fandral only laughed again._

"_Is that so?" He went on. "And I suppose it's some great scheme of yours, to lose to us every day in the training fields? You're only pretending, is that right? Displaying weakness and cowardice with purposeful intent, in spite of course of the shame you bring to your father through it?"_

"_Fandral, you will stay your tongue!" Thor raged, standing quickly and facing the other boy, stance threatening._

"_Oh, yes, I forgot!" Fandral replied. "I should take care how I speak to the young prince, given what strength he finds in you as his protector."_

"_I need no protector!" Loki nearly screamed, rising to his feet, pushing down the pain which again flared through his back. "I can best you in battle any day!"_

"_Loki…" Thor started, turning towards his brother, reaching out._

"_No!" Loki swatted his hand away, his eyes locked still on Fandral. "You think me so weak? So frail? You think me a _coward _who brings shame upon my father's name? Then I shall show you who the real coward is!"_

_Fandral grinned viciously._

"_Well come on then, little prince!" He accepted the challenge without hesitation. "Show me what warrior heart you have in you!"_

_Before Thor could react, before he could reach out to stop his little brother, Loki had lunged for Fandral, throwing himself at the larger boy with everything he had, an enraged snarl tearing past his lips._

_Fandral dodged him easily, laughing lightly as he stepped aside, letting Loki stumble forward and nearly lose his footing._

"_You'll have to do better than that trickster!" He mocked._

"_Fandral, stop this!" Thor began desperately, stepping forward. "Stop this antagonizing!" _

"_You stay out of this!" Loki hissed, whirling back around, determined, and a moment later, he'd thrown himself again at Fandral._

_And again, Fandral stepped aside, this time reaching out as Loki flew past him, pushing the smaller boy to the ground, laughing once more._

"_How do you hope to best me when you cannot even lay a hand on me?" He asked Loki as the prince pushed himself to his hands and knees. _

_Sif and Volstagg erupted in agreements, laughing lightly as they watched Loki struggle._

_Their laughter cut abruptly short as Loki turned, his eyes ablaze in anger, the anyway unnatural brightness of his green irises seeming almost to glow now with unchecked emotion, his teeth bared in snarl._

"_I need not catch you if you cannot run!" He cried, and the group had only a moment for confusion before Loki rose to his feet and motioned forward with his hands, speaking in a tongue none of them understood._

"_Aratura." He only whispered, and suddenly the smell of magic permeated the air, heavy and thick, and Fandral found himself rooted to the spot, his arms pinned down to his sides, unable to move._

_His eyes went wide, visible fear flashing through them, and he began desperately to protest._

"_He uses black craft!" He started, voice pitching higher. "He uses the dark ar…"_

"_Araventani." Loki again whispered, again motioning forward with his fingers, the gesture delicate and refined. And suddenly Fandral's voice was lost to him, vanishing into thin air, his eyes going even wider, panic clear in them._

"_You dare?" Sif abruptly started, expression contorting in rage. "He dares use magic!" She went on, and now Volstagg and Hogun started too, faces creasing with heavy frowns, the three of them beginning to step forward, towards Loki._

"_NO!" Thor cried, reaching for them to push them back._

_They didn't understand, they didn't know…_

_But Loki was ready._

_He was ready for them all._

"_AraventauDANI!" His voice rose, and the magic grew thicker in the air, almost cloying, and in an instant, the three had frozen, the same as Fandral, their voices also gone to them._

"_ORATAR!" Loki motioned violently forward, his voice cracking with emotion as Sif and the Warriors were lifted bodily from the ground, slammed with unforgiving force back down, knocking the breathe from all of them._

"_LOKI!" Thor stepped forward, between his brother and his companions. "Loki, STOP this!"_

"_Step aside Thor." The younger prince answered, his eyes focused over the taller boys shoulder, voice eerily calm. "They brought this on themselves."_

"_No Loki, this is not right." Thor argued, stepping closer, hands held out in a plea. "You are simply giving in to Fandral's taunts. This is beneath you. This is _beneath_ a prince of Asgard."_

"_Apparently I am beneath the station as is." Loki shot, eyes for only a moment moving to his brother before snapping back to those he had entangled._

"_You are not. But if you act as you are, you only give others the means to dismiss you with." Thor replied carefully._

_He could see the emotion raging in Loki, the precarious ledge he stood upon suddenly, despite his outwardly calm demeanor. And knew so how dangerous he was then._

"_I do not _care_ what they think of me!" Loki spat, losing some of that control._

"_Then let them go Loki." Thor breathed. "This is not worth it."_

_Loki responded by flicking his fingers downwards, pressing the four harder into the ground, watching as their faces twisted in pain._

"_Loki, you SHAME yourself!" Thor hissed, taking another step towards his brother._

_Loki's eyes flashed dangerously, looking to him._

"_I…" his head shook. "they wished to engage me. They wished to do battle. I am doing as you would if attacked!"_

"_This is not how you do battle Loki." Thor said back. "This is not how you respond to a challenge. This is a cowards method." _

_And for a moment, Loki faltered, his eyes blinking back at the elder prince, staring as though he didn't understand._

"… _It is the only way I can find victory." He said in a voice almost too soft to hear._

"_Then your victory shall be a hollow one." Thor said back, voice even. "There is no honor, no glory in the way you work."_

_And that did it._

_That was all it took._

_The sting at the back of his eyes was immediate, and his focus broken, the spells shattered, the hold on the four falling away even as the tears spilled over and down Loki's cheeks._

_Humiliation burned him, and he turned, his face falling and crumpling, a balled hand coming to his mouth as he bit down hard of his knuckles to stop the sob from escaping._

"_Loki…" Thor reached out for him, ignoring his friends as they shot to their feet, angered words spilling from their lips, accusations and hateful proclamations aimed towards the younger prince, yet none daring to step forward to engage him. _

"…_No." Loki breathed quietly, voice shaking and frail._

_Thor stepped closer, his fingers brushing against his brothers shoulder._

"_NO!" Loki cried, throwing Thor's hand from him._

_And then he was running._

_He was running away from all of them, as fast as he could. As hard as he could._

_Running until all of them had lost sight of his lesser form._

_And moments past in silence, not a one of them for those seconds moving._

_Until finally Fandral stepped forward, closer to Thor, reaching out a hand._

"_Thor…" he started gently, but the instant his hand touched, Thor shrugged it away viciously._

"_Do not speak to me." He shot, turning, glaring at the other boy. _

"_Thor…" Sif started._

_But he only shook his head before pushing past them, heading back up the hill, in the opposite direction of his brother._

_He heard them shift behind him to follow._

"_You will leave me be." He snapped out, not bothering to turn and address them._

_And they knew better than to challenge what he said then._

_They knew better than to follow._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

The doors to the thrown room came crashing open with a bang, nearly throwing off their hinges with the force of the blow against them, and Odin sighed, glancing up unaffected at his son as he came charging in, pacing quickly and determinedly across the floor towards him.

"Father, I would have words with you about my brother!" Thor began, his voice loud and booming off the walls.

Odin narrowed his one eye, the beginnings of irritation scratching the back of his mind.

"Thor, I am in the middle of consul…" he started, but his son cut him short.

"How could you do this to him Father?" He said indignantly. "How could you just leave him chained in the middle of the square like that? To be _mocked_ and derided by… by…"

Another sigh left Odin, keeping his eyes on the approaching crowned prince a moment longer before glancing to his advisor and waving him off.

"Leave us." He ordered, and the man nodded without protest, disappearing out of the room seconds later, walking past Thor without looking up at the enraged, younger god.

Thor continued on until he'd reached the foot of dais, glaring up at the All-Father.

"You said _nothing _of this Father." He went on hotly. "To me or to Mother. You had him dragged from his chambers in the dead of night like some commoner thief. I did not even know until this evening when I went to see him and found his rooms empty!"

"Thor, it is for his own well being." Odin said, losing his patience. "He must be taught humility."

"_Taught_ humility?" Thor spat. "Father, this is teaching him _nothing_! Only _forcing _humility upon him, which will serve only to further _embitter _him! You cannot possibly think this the right solution."

"It is the _only _solution Thor!" Odin's voice rose. "Loki is a selfish, petty and cruel child. His actions deplorable. There being no justification for them. He must be _shown_ that, and leniency will not be given."

Thor's expression grew incredulous.

"So you would not even pay him the courtesy of your presence? You would not deign to look upon your youngest son and explain this to him yourself?" The elder prince's voice grew thick with emotion. "Father, he is _broken_. Do you not see? He… he is already without pride, all his words and bluster nothing more than the desperate actions of one without defense, without regard for himself. He… he broke into sobs because I tried giving him water Father. Because I forced it on him and he could say no not even to that. He had not even that choice. Your refusal to go to him will only worsen his belief that you do not love him."

Odin paused, lips pulling down severely.

"… You question my love for my son?" He asked after a moment.

And Thor shook his head.

"No Father. I do not. But he does. He thinks you hate him."

"I do not." Odin insisted. "I love Loki as I would any child of mine."

"Then _tell _him so!" Thor snapped. "Go to him and explain yourself, and give him too the chance to be heard!"

"I cannot Thor." Odin replied. "To do so would imply forgiveness, and as yet, he has not earned such. Your visit to him would imply much the same, and so I forbid you to do so again. You will stay away from Loki Thor, until I deem it appropriate otherwise, and he will remain chained to the stone in the towns square through tomorrow evening, at which time he'll be taken to the dungeons below this palace until I can conjure an appropriate punishment for his many crimes. This is my final word and I will not hear otherwise."

Thor couldn't help the disbelieving expression across his face, his jaw held agape a moment as he stared back and up to the All-Father.

"Then you make a grave error." He at last said, voice falling low and flat. "This decision will only wrought ruin for all of us, Loki the same as we."

And before Odin could speak, Thor had turned on his heel, heading with a purposeful stride from the room, vanishing from sight out the door.

/

By the time he had reached Loki's chambers, Thor was near to uncontrollably mad, his hands clenching and unclenching in balled fists, fingers twitching to retrieve Mjolnir and unleash a swath of destruction upon his surroundings, tempered only when he stepped through the doors of Loki's bed chamber, his eyes falling over the immaculately kept space.

And at once, Thor's rage was replaced by a sinking sadness, and he felt himself crushed down by the depression of his thoughts, what seemed beautiful memories, made bitter by the circumstances of the present.

Loki had always been so neat… so clean…

Thor remembered, ever since they had been children together. When they had shared a room in their youngest years, Loki had always insisted on dividing the space up between them, and he felt a small twitch of his lips upwards as he recalled Loki's voice, telling him in exasperation…

"_You make such a mess of things Thor! Our room is near to uninhabitable, and certainly not presentable, the way you leave your things strewn all about! You should take more pride in the appearance of yourself and your surroundings!_"

Though Loki had tried keeping his side of the room clean, Thor had always somehow managed to wreck it in one way or another, much to the younger boys chagrin.

When the time had come they'd finally been given separate quarters, Loki had taken time each day to go over his room in painstaking detail, making sure everything was just so, just how he wanted it, and Thor remembered too how flustered his little brother would become each time he invited himself in without Loki's consent.

Thor had thought it humorous then, how upset Loki would grow, thinking nothing serious of it, only his brother being over-sensitive and seizing the opportunity to cry about something else…

He frowned, eyes flitting to the floor, frame tensing.

He'd treated most every instant of Loki's vocalized unhappiness with much the same attitude, now that he thought on it. Disregarding it as nothing more than a kind of joke, or frivolous displeasure. He'd never thought…

How unhappy had Loki _been_? For how many years had he been plagued by discontent and suffering?

Thor's frown deepened when it flashed through his mind, so long ago, when Loki had stopped complaining of anything. When there had come over him some seemingly sudden and dramatic shift, and he had… he had gone into himself, and grown more quiet than what had ever been normal for him before.

Where at first, Loki's face had held all of the raw emotion of his insides, and then one day, there seemed in its place a blank and stoic visage, giving nothing away, revealing nothing of his thoughts or feelings.

When had that happened? When had Loki stopped talking to him? Stopped sharing with him everything? As they had when they were children, and there were no secretes between them.

When had Loki stopped thinking he could talk to Thor, and Thor would understand. Or if he didn't, because Thor knew that so often, he wasn't able to grasp the complexity of Loki's thoughts and emotions, he in the least would be there to support his little brother, and help him in any way he could.

When had Loki forgotten that?

_Why_ had he forgotten that?

Thor shifted, stepping slowly to Loki's bed, gaze falling over the size of it, noticing how small it was.

And his frown deepened.

His own bed was large, big enough to fit several people, if he so wanted. Loki's… Loki's had only ever been large enough to at the most fit a second person, and that even would have been a tight fit.

He'd had the option, of course, to have a larger place of rest, but he'd never exercised it, and it occurred suddenly to Thor how very rare it was his little brother had ever had anyone besides himself invited into his chambers.

… How rare even… he couldn't remember a single instant it seemed, when Loki had even invited a woman to share his bed.

Thor's own rooms were visited upon every day, by friends and family and, he wasn't near modest enough to deny a bevy of Asgard's most beautiful maidens on a fairly regular interval.

Loki was different.

That had always been more than obvious, even in Thor's sometimes less than observant mind.

But he'd never thought on the isolation of that difference.

He sank down, sitting upon the bed, the firm mattress giving under his great weight, and deeper still did his frown pull, memories of before again filling his thoughts, of when Loki had been a child so small he absolutely dwarfed in comparison to others his own age, never mind the children older than him.

Thor recalled how protective he had been of his brother then, how he would hardly leave his side for a moment, and how then, Loki hadn't left his either. How he'd used to trail along behind Thor wherever he went, or hold to his hand as though to let go would surely be the end of him.

How he would imitate him too, taking up sticks and wooden swords, often too heavy for his slight strength at the time, waving them around clumsily in an attempt to duplicate his older brothers earliest weapons training.

Loki had been so undersized and frail, Thor remembered, that he hadn't been allowed to begin any of his own until well after most children his age did, and he remembered too Loki holding tight to him during those years, and often crying near inconsolably against his chest, asking why he wasn't allowed to join in with the rest of the warriors, and Thor had explained to him it was because he was too small, too weak, and Father and Mother and the teachers feared he would be hurt, and Loki would only sob harder.

Loki had been sensitive, always driven quickly to tears as a boy. And Thor's clumsy words had done little to ease his dismay then.

It had always confused the older prince, why Loki was the way he was. Why he seemed so easily frightened, why he was always so scared.

Even when they'd grown old enough to have their own chambers, it was for many years Loki would still come to Thor's rooms in the dead of night, pushing open his doors and padding quietly to Thor's bed, climbing up into it with him and shaking him awake. Thor would often come out of his slumber bleary eyed to find Loki staring down at him, tears streaking down his pale cheeks, eyes wide and glistening, even in the dark, and he would cry helplessly that he'd had a nightmare, a terrible dream and he didn't want to be alone.

Thor would ask him what he'd dreamed of, and Loki would usually just shake his head and cling to him desperately, muttering something about fire and destruction and death, and about himself being there, being the one who…

He never could finish his words then, dissolving into greater sobbing, and Thor wondered at what could cause such a little child to have such morbid and threatening thoughts.

And it was these thoughts now which filled his mind as he lay over against his side, letting his head rest against the pillow of Loki's bed, letting his eyes drift shut.

Dreams filling his own head of Loki's darkness, and how even as a boy, he'd seemed to know before any of them what blackness he was fated to fall into.

How once it had upset him so…

And Thor wondered if still it did…

If still it frightened him as once it did…

/

He woke with a start at the sound of the doors banging open, his hand immediately calling Mjolnir to it, sitting up like a rocket, eyes wide and ready for attack.

All he was met with was a palace guard, breathing heavily and looking flustered, sucking for air as he began in a rambling voice to address the crown prince.

"My lord, your brother…" he gasped.

And immediately Thor stood, striding towards him.

"What of my brother?" He demanded, a feeling of unwanted panic blooming within his chest.

"My lord, he has… he has escaped!" The man continued to struggle for breath. "When one of our men went earlier to check on him, his… his muzzle had been removed and, his words of magic, he must have… must have spoken them to free himself from his binds. None of us… none of us know how the muzzle came to be freed but the Allfather my lord, he is… he is furious and…"

He wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence as Thor blew past him, marching out into the hallway, a sickening dread already building up from the pit of his stomach, gripping his insides with unrelenting pressure.

Outside was chaos, guards and servants running almost madly about the palace, frantic and fevered and filled with seeming fear, the higher ranked officers shouting orders to their men, instructing them to spread out and search the grounds, to leave no place unchecked.

Other gods stood with equally unsettled expressions, the cacophony of their worried rambling filling up the space, words of horror and uncertainty, sureness that the once prince was that very instant planning the doom of them all, that he would reign fire and death upon the kingdom in his jealous and bitter rage.

Thor felt light headed, his own kind of rage filling him as he moved forward, grip tightening around the hilt of his hammer, face settling into a grim expression.

"_Loki, no_…" he thought to himself, making his way towards the thrown room. "_what have you done?_"

/

It was hours later when finally he found him.

And still he didn't know how.

Only that he'd felt a strange pull, a sense abruptly upon him of where Loki would be, and if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he heard a sort of voice filling his head, coaxing him to the place, leading him there.

The palace was still in utter disarray, Odin's men having since spread out to search the grounds surrounding it, given the express command by their king to find Loki and bring him back, unharmed if possible, but if not, to do whatever necessary short of ending his life.

Thor had readily and without fear admitted to his father that it had been him who had removed Loki's gag, explaining that his brother had started to throw up, and he'd had no choice. But Odin had nonetheless been incensed, admonishing Thor for his carelessness and foolery, blaming him for Loki's escape. And Thor really hadn't had an argument against it.

Loki himself had warned him against conversing with him.

It only served to sadden Thor further, when Loki seemed lately time and again to make a concerted effort of proving just how untrustworthy he _was_. Almost like he needed those around him to believe it.

Thor had promised Odin he would find his brother and bring him back, no matter how far he had gone to, or where. And Odin had warned him failure was no option regarding the task.

As it turned out, he hadn't needed to go far at all, coming to this covering near the edge of the woods surrounding the city, spotting his little brother sat down along the bank of a large pond, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped round his legs, staring into the still water.

His back had been to Thor when he saw him, still bare from his earlier flogging, and the thunder god cringed upon seeing the lacerations across his pale skin, still fresh and bleeding. And a heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach as he stared at Loki, sitting motionless there.

He looked so small to Thor.

Just as he'd determined to step forward and address his brother, he was interrupted by Loki's soft voice.

"Do you remember this place?" He asked.

And it occurred suddenly to the elder prince that Loki had been aware of his being there the whole time, and it dawned on him clearer still that maybe that pull he'd felt earlier, what he'd thought was a voice in his head, had been Loki, reaching out to him with his magic and influencing his mind.

"Loki…" he began, stepping closer cautiously, as though afraid he might scare his brother off if he approached too quickly.

"We used to come here as children, you and I." He went on, as though he hadn't heard Thor. "We would come here to play, to wallow in this very pond." He gestured delicately towards the water. "Or play hide and seek among the trees." He waved a hand to indicate the surrounding alcove.

"Loki, the entire palace is looking for you." Thor stepped nearer. "Father is furious. He's ordered his men to bring you back, under force if necessary."

Loki didn't react to any of Thor's words, continuing on.

"And do you remember Thor…" he went on. "do you remember how I used to read to you here?" Finally he looked back, over his shoulder and up at the older god. "You would sit propped against that stump there," he indicated the spot. "and I would read to you tales of the great Aesir warriors of centuries past. Or of the other realms of the world tree. And you would be so engrossed Thor, you would be so captivated, you nearly each time forgot yourself and your surroundings. Falling into almost a trance. Do you remember? Remember how I read to you? And it was maybe the only time I ever felt in a way I was serving as _your_ guide, instead of you me. That I was able to impress you in some way, because you enjoyed the sound of my voice, the way I would express the words…"

His voice trailed off, his eyes seeming to shine brightly in the shade of the place, brow furring heavy before abruptly he turned away, casting his gaze back upon the water, falling silent.

Thor watched him a long moment.

He did remember.

Now that he looked about. He did remember this place.

But they hadn't come here in so many years, he'd forgotten about it entirely, not thinking it a highlight among his and Loki's many youthful treks.

And especially he remembered…

"I would ask you." He said, stepping again closer, slowly lowering himself until he was kneeling on the balls of his feet, just behind his brother. "I would come to your room and beg you to read to me all the time, because you were so talented with words. You had a way of making even the most basic of literature sound impressive and important."

Loki said nothing, eyes still fixed ahead.

"But I liked it most when you would make tales of your own and tell them to me." Thor went on. "I was always astonished at your prowess for story telling. And the creativity of your mind."

He glanced to the younger prince, noticing the sly smirk which had crossed his lips.

"Yes, well…" he said suddenly. "I suppose that is a more fond way of remembering my talent for fabrication. I fear you were the only one to deem any merit in the skill. All others grew distrustful of one so deft with… imagination." His smirk grew slightly, though the smile failed to reach his eyes.

Thor frowned, looking away.

He recalled how the other gods had often asked Loki to entertain the court with his magic and stories, soliciting his talents most every day for their amusement.

He also recalled how afterwards, he would often overhear their less than flattering words regarding his little brother, whispering amongst themselves about what a "good little liar he was", regarding his magic as nothing more than a "neat trick", though really without use for anything more serious than performance art.

Thor remembered hoping Loki didn't know of what people said, didn't hear it like he did.

But he always knew that Loki did.

Because Loki was always aware of everything.

A long moment past in silence, before Thor sighed heavily, settling back onto his bottom and hooking his arms around his knees, mimicking Loki.

"… I have to take you back Loki." He spoke quietly. "You've gotten everyone worked up again, thinking you've escaped to wreak revenge upon them all. Your being free from your bonds is making them very nervous."

This drew a soft chuckle from the younger prince.

"Well it's nice to know myself still capable of inspiring fear." He said. "But I'm afraid their worry is without cause. The binds drained me of a good deal of my magic, as did the whip, laced as it was with enchantment. It would be days yet before my energy could begin to replenish itself to any affect. As it is…" he held his hand out over the water in front of him. "I'm relegated now to nothing much more than illusion."

Thor watched as the water seemed suddenly to spring to life, rising up from the surface, beginning to form an image.

And his eyes grew wide at the shape it began to assume.

Two boys, one tall and broad with blonde hair, the other shorter and slight, his coloring dark, both smiling widely, both laughing as they played together in a place which looked just as here.

"… That's…" Thor began, trailing off.

Loki said nothing, only nodding in reply as he maintained the small spell, eyes as equally transfixed as Thor's on the scene.

And for a time, the two of them just sat like that, watching themselves as children, seeing their faces lit with happiness.

Until after a while, the image flickered, and then abruptly faded into nothing.

Thor turned, looking to his brother, seeing his hand held above the water, trembling, before a moment later he pulled it back, holding it over his face as he turned away.

And Thor saw then the deep shutter through the rest of his frame, and the barely audible sound of his repressed sob as he clamped his other hand across his mouth, his shoulders hunching as he curled into himself, as though that might hide his distress.

For a moment, the elder prince began to reach his hand out towards him, wanting to comfort him. But then he pulled short, fingers freezing inches away, realizing he would only make it worse, would only embarrass his brother by doing so.

And so instead he looked away, giving Loki his privacy, hoping desperately it was the right thing to do.

Several minutes past, Thor fighting not to move, to say or do anything as he listened to his little brother struggling not to cry.

Only after a long while could he hear Loki's breathing finally begin to calm, and he dared to look back to him, seeing him sitting, slumped, his hands held limply at his sides now, reddened eyes fixed blankly ahead, back to the water again.

Thor let a few minutes longer pass in silence then, giving his brother time more to collect himself before finally he reached out, resting a giant hand gently upon the smaller gods shoulder.

"Come Loki," he said softly. "we should return to the palace."

And Loki said nothing, giving no struggle as Thor pushed himself to his feet, hooking his hands underneath his brothers arms and lifting him up with him, letting Thor wrap an arm around his shoulders to hold him steady.

And if Loki leaned into Thor as they walked from the forest, if he clung back to him with trembling hands and buried his face against Thor's shoulder, Thor said nothing of it, he made no remark.

Because he knew his little brother would be embarrassed if he did.

And Thor was beginning to understand that sometimes it was best to let things be as they may.

/

**Thank you again to all of my readers and reviewers! You've all been a huge support and I appreciate it more than you know. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'd love to hear what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

It was the moment they reached the palace they were descended upon by a torrent of guards, reaching forward and tearing Loki from Thor's grasp, pulling him away from the elder prince violently.

Thor protests viciously, already incensed and disgusted from the taunts his brother had had to endure on their way through the city. Never before had Thor felt so ashamed of his people, to call himself as among their group.

If for all these centuries they had been whispering and gossiping about Loki behind his back, they held no qualms now in making their feelings known to his face, their blatant disrespect nothing short of obscene and sickening.

"_Take care how you speak to a prince of Asgard_!" Thor had bellowed at them, holding an unresponsive Loki tight against him.

And only had he been met with their further derision, screams from the gathering throngs that Loki was no prince. That he was an abomination and a traitor, a Jotun monster not fit to stand among the Aesir, deserving of naught but their scorn.

Thor had been aghast, yelling at them to stay back as he hurried Loki through, pressing his lips close to his brothers head and begging him not to listen.

Loki had given no indication either way whether he heard or cared over the things they said, but Thor knew… he _knew _how affected the younger god was by words.

He knew now better than ever.

"No!" Thor cries as they rip Loki away, reaching out to take hold of his brother once more, only to be blocked by a cross section of spears.

His eyes grow large as he watches them handle him with rough hands, forcing him with too little effort to his knees, beginning to wrench his arms behind his back.

"He is in need of the healing chambers!" Thor continues to shout. "He is in no condition to fight. You needn't be so coarse with him!"

Again he steps forward, eyes set on his brother, Loki's face without expression as he allows himself without struggle to be pushed and pulled and pressed down, to be maneuvered like some puppet.

"Can you not see?" Thor goes on, snapping his gaze back to the guards. "He gives no resistance! Be not so rough in your manner!"

"He is a prisoner…" one of them begins.

"He is a _prince_!" Thor shoots, cutting him short. "And you will treat him as such!"

"Thor…"

His tirade is halted as he hears, finally, Loki's voice, his eyes going immediately to his brother, seeing him looking back.

And Loki shakes his head.

The thunder gods mouth hangs agape, still a moment, uncertain of his brothers gesture, before he makes to speak again, only once more to be stopped by the resounding echo of Odin's staff, making blunt contact with the floor, halting the motion of everyone within the space.

"Father…" Thor begins after a moment of stunned quiet. "Father, explain to them, Loki is in need of the healers and rest, he cannot…"

"Silence!" Odin's voice booms, cutting his off, and Thor sees his one eye fixed on the younger prince.

Loki, who Thor then sees doesn't look back. Who Thor sees has his gaze trained on the floor as though absorbed by something there none of the rest of them can even begin to notice.

His frame is tense and drawn in hard, straight lines, rigid as stone, and looking closer, Thor can also see the very slight tremor which runs through his thin body.

He's scared. And Thor feels sick.

Odin moves towards him, stopping just feet away, towering over his youngest, staring down at him without words a long moment.

"Where did you find him?" He finally asks, the question directed at Thor, though his eye never leaves Loki.

Loki still hasn't looked up.

Hasn't moved.

"… At the edge of the surrounding woods." Thor answers after some seconds. "in a place of our youth. He wasn't trying to escape, he…"

"He used his sorcery in defiance of this kingdoms law. His intention in its use is without relevance." Odin says, and Thor falls silent, mouth pulling into a frown.

What seems minutes go by then without words, the tension in the air palpable all around, Odin's gaze still locked on Loki in uncomfortable scrutiny, until at last he lets go a long sigh, turning from the second prince, hand reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

"I am too old for this." He says, pausing a moment. "… Your actions bring shame Loki, and I grow more wary by the day with them. Can you never allow things to be as they are?"

And finally it is Loki looks up, and Thor sees again in his eyes the rage which he'd glimpsed on Midgard, and before that, on the Rainbow bridge.

The absolute _fury_.

Gone is his fear, his submission, and the elder prince feels a nauseating lurch in the pit of his stomach at the sight of it.

For a moment, Loki says nothing, does nothing, the muscles of his face seeming to struggle, lurching from one expression to another as though unsure of what their wearer is feeling, his jaw working as though the words are frozen in his mouth and he is fighting with everything he has to expel them.

And very suddenly then, his eyes are filling, shining with tears which refuse to fall, and his visage hardens, finally decided upon the meanness it wishes to convey, and his words come, sharp and cutting and ripping, and eerily calm, with all the articulation and quickness which earned him his title silvertongue.

And it is then Thor knows how deeply Odin's words have cut…

"I bring you shame?" He asks, eyes never leaving the Allfather. "My actions do your pride harm? Bring humiliation and unease upon the name of this house?"

Odin turns, glaring at Loki, saying nothing.

"Do you hate me so?" Loki asks. "Am I so undesirable to you? So unwanted?"

Still, Odin says nothing.

"So grand a disappointment? A stolen son failing so absolutely in your expectation you begin to feel the age of your millennia?"

Further silence.

"Or perhaps it is that you had no expectation at all, and find yourself only mortified by the great mistake of your too long life? Realizing it only after the time has become far too late to amend your foolhardy endeavor? And so you've suffered the embarrassment of my failure and monstrosity upon your name for a thousand years for your inability to think your way out. Oh, great and _wise_ king, why did you not just kill me when you had the chance? Would that not have been a fitting and quick solution to your _shame_?"

And still, Odin says nothing, only watching Loki in stoic silence.

Loki's teeth bare in a snarl, and abruptly he lurches forward, seeming not to notice or to care, the way he is pulled back and crushed to his knees again by the guards.

And when he again speaks, his voice has lost its ease, and he is screaming, and the tears have lost their hold and are streaming down his pale and hollow cheeks.

"You do _me_ harm Allfather!" He cries, all desperation and despair. "You have done _me_ harm all these years! You shame ME!"

Again he pushes forward, and again he's pulled back down, tears thicker, faster down his face.

"You SHAME ME!" He cries again. "I thought you such a great man! I thought you the greatest of _all_ men! And yet you prove yourself nothing but a liar and a coward Odin!"

A half choked laugh tears from Loki's lips, half sob.

"The Aesir are wrong to doubt my likeness to you then, yes?" He goes on, grinning madly. "They are wrong. All my tricks, all my treachery, I learned from _you_! All my cunning selfishness! Oh, you _shame_ me Allfather! For I had judged myself beneath the shadow of your excellence. I had believed myself so much lesser than you, and hated myself for the perfection in you I never could reach. Which Thor took strides towards each day without impediment and I struggled so tirelessly to keep pace with! Oh, all the wasted centuries my _king_! Wanting to be something in you which never existed. To be as someone who never _existed_!"

"That is ENOUGH!" Odin finally shouts, and Loki, despite his overwhelming rage, can't stop himself from flinching, can't stop his eyes from falling to the floor.

"I will hear no more of this insolence from you!" The Allfather goes on, voice loud and unforgiving. "You have caused enough disruption this day, enough chaos, and there will be no more!"

He motions suddenly to one of the men, standing back from those restraining Loki, and the guard nods, stepping forward, holding in his hands the earlier removed gag.

Thor's eyes widen.

"Father, you can't mean to…" he begins to protest, looking to the Allfather.

But Odin only holds up a hand to silence him, keeping his watch on the guard as he bends beside his youngest son, readying the mouth piece.

Loki doesn't struggle, remaining still now, eyes still wet with tears, and Thor steps forward, urgent and dismayed.

"Father, this is cruelty!" He nearly begs. "You cannot leave him bound in such a contraption! He cannot even…"

"No, you are right Thor." Again Odin cuts him short, moving his gaze to him. "We cannot rely on the device to keep him silent, easily removable as it is. It is only a temporary solution." His eyes fix back on Loki. "Tomorrow he will be given a draught, and following his lips will be sewn together, to avoid any more incidents like the one this morning."

His voice is calm and cold as he says it, evenly paced, but neither of the two princes can keep the shock from their faces then.

A moment of tense silence follows, before Loki forces his features into unresponsiveness, his expression going flat.

Thor is unable to do the same.

"Father, no…" he starts, stepping towards the elder god, and he can't keep the waver from his voice, unwanted memories crashing relentless through his mind, consuming guilt taking him at once.

Loki says nothing, his eyes only fixing on the man he once thought to be his father, features betraying nothing of the unease and sickness blooming abruptly in the pit of his stomach.

He fights to show nothing at all.

Until finally his eyes fall away.

And now it is Thor who loses his composure as Odin looks tiredly to him, waiting.

"Father, please!" The thunder god entreats. "Please, do not do this to him. Do not. It is not right."

"As it was not right half a millennia ago, when you held your brother down and let Brokk thread the needle through his lips?" Odin shoots, voice ragged. "You thought nothing of it then Thor. And yet you judge upon me doling the same punishment for crimes far in excess of what he did then. Do not be a hypocrite boy. Loki is dangerous. His voice is a weapon and it must be taken from him until he learns to wield it with greater responsibility. Until he realizes the damage he can and has caused with it."

And it was for a moment, Thor pauses, jaw clamping shut as his mind goes blank.

For a moment, he cannot think of what to say.

Of how to say it.

His eyes turn to his brother. To Loki.

Sitting there still, unmoving, eyes still cast to the floor, arms twisted cruelly behind his back and pressed down onto his knees.

And Thor thinks… he thinks of all the times… all the many, so many times he wanted to say it. _Had _to say it. All the times the words had been there on his lips, waiting, just waiting to spring forth.

But damn and foolish pride had always gotten in their way.

Had robbed him of the ability to know _how_.

And how he'd loathed himself in those moments following, when he would turn from Loki and mutter "Nothing, it is nothing. Forget it." And Loki would watch him with half hopeful eyes, as though he'd _known _what it was Thor had been trying to do, and the desperate disappointment which would replace that hope when Thor would say nothing else, and the thunder god could no longer look in to his eyes for the shame of it.

Until he'd stopped trying altogether, pushing memories of the incident to the back of his mind, schooling himself to ignore it in the years following whenever it would rear itself to the front of his thoughts, the feel of Loki beneath his hands, struggling, struggling, struggling so weakly. The pitiful sound of his whimpering when the needle had pierced his flesh, and he'd convulsed with a trembling shutter before… before…

"_Thor! Thor please! _Please_, I _beg_ you!" Loki backed away a step, hands held up and out in supplication, shaking visibly. _

_His pupils had blown wide when he'd seen the elder gods intent, and damn him, he couldn't keep the terror from his face, from his wavering voice…_

_Thor's advancement didn't slow, his own features contorted in obvious rage, and again Loki stepped away, legs nearly giving out from how weak he suddenly felt._

"_Thor…" he begged again._

"_No Loki!" His brother seethed, cutting him off. "I will not let you continue to make a mockery of justice!"_

"_But I have not!" Loki cried, trying desperately to explain. "I have not! When has it become a crime to outthink your opponent?" _

"_ENOUGH!" Thor boomed, and in an instant, he had closed the distance between them, hands reaching out with his deceptive speed._

_And Loki found no escape, seized by his brother and held fast, his eyes grew larger as Thor leaned close and hissed…_

"_Enough of your _lies _Loki!"_

_In an instant, the elder prince was pushing him down._

_Loki fought. _

_He pushed and he pulled and he tore, trying to free himself from Thor's thick and relentless fingers, and shame burned his cheeks in how useless his efforts proved, in how easily his brother flattened him to the floor._

_As though handling a mere child._

_And Loki cried out, a pathetic keen as his eyes glimpsed Brokk coming towards them, thread and needle in hand._

_His hands reached up, finding Thor's broad shoulders, pushing against them, moving him not an inch as the thunder god pressed a palm to Loki's chest, keeping him down, his other taking fierce hold of the younger princes jaw, stilling his thrashing head._

_But still Loki struggled, heart hammering painfully beneath his ribcage, arms and legs kicking and waving in a vain attempt to throw his brother off him. His panic grew, bleeding to naked fear as Brokk stepped within their space and bent down to his knees._

_And as the threaded needle drew near his lips, for a fleeting instant, Loki's gaze snapped back to Thor, and when he saw no mercy in the thunder gods eyes, for an instant more, he thought… he thought of unleashing his magic onto him. Of how easy it would be… so, so easy to blast him away as though nothing more than an irritating fly. Blast him back…_

_And cruel thoughts entered Loki's mind, destructive thoughts of humbling and humiliating his brother before all the court. Making a show of him, of how very _weak _he would be in the face of his magic. How all his great, physical prowess was as nothing in the shadow of his dark power._

_Oh how easy, how easy it would be…_

_He could feel the tendrils of his energy, curling round his thin fingers, snaking its way across his palms, building, building…_

_He could just…_

_But no… no…_

_That wasn't right. It wasn't right._

_He can't..._

_These vicious thoughts he has. This part of himself he keeps checked and smothered and buried, buried, buried where no one, no one can see, because if they did, they would hate him more than what they already do. They would cast him out and abandon him to nowhere. And Loki has no other place, no other home, and he can't lose this one. He can't, he can't, he can't, because it's all he has, and he doesn't want to be alone. Oh gods, he doesn't…_

_And he thinks, as the needle gleams in the periphery of his vision, he thinks about why he's like this thing he is. He wonders at what wretch he is. Wonders at this deformed and twisted thing he is amongst the perfection of the gods around him._

Oh why, why, why am I this way?

_Everything stills, and then there is pain._

_White hot, flaring agony through the whole of his face, and the scream dies on his lips, coming out a startled whimper as his body trembles violently and tears fill his eyes, scorching down his cheeks._

_And all the strength goes out of him, whatever little strength he had, and he falls limp, he falls empty._

_And he doesn't know why Thor is still holding him so tightly. He doesn't know why Thor's hands are still hurting him like this, bruising him where his fingers curl and press. Because he isn't fighting anymore. He doesn't want to fight anymore. He doesn't want anything but for Thor to let him go. Let him go, let him go, let him go, please. _

Please Thor, let me go_._

_The words I'm sorry pass through his brain, and he thinks to say them, to speak them to his brother, to tell him he's sorry for being this terrible way he is._

_But when he goes to part his lips and let the words fall from them, they won't come open. They won't move. And his eyes widen in horror as he feels Thor's grip at last loosen, and Brokk standing from where he knelt._

_And he can't open his mouth. He can't speak. He can't speak._

_He can't say anything at all._

Thor remembers the way Loki had laid still for nearly a full minute after he'd released him, the way he hadn't moved from the spot, eyes staring wide and unblinking up at the ceiling, shining with tears as blood flowed free and grotesquely down his chin and the sides of his face.

How after a time his little brother had finally rolled over, struggling to his knees and elbows, hand coming up, covering his bleeding mouth, remaining that way for a long while more, chest heaving up and down in quick, shallow breaths, as though he weren't getting enough air.

And Thor remembers too… he remembers too how the gathered people had stared in shocked silence for those tense moments, eyes fixed on Loki in morbid fascination. How they'd stared that way, the silence stretching in unbearable length, before laughter shattered the air, a man near the back, unseen, and how it was quickly to follow a domino affect, a wave of hysteria washing over the court, until near every man, woman and child were roaring with mirth, the sound cacophonous and overwhelming, seeming to shake the very foundations of the marble floor.

Laughing at Loki.

And Thor remembers with sickening guilt Loki's expression. How his brother had looked up and around him, fresh tears filling his eyes and streaming down his face, his gaze flitting around the court, features lined in some unspeakable pain, something deeper than the physical injury he had sustained, before abruptly he had shot to his feet, stumbling forward and falling again to his knees, drawing more and louder laughter from the crowd as he struggled to right himself again.

Loki had run. He'd run away from all of them, pushing past the throngs, his hands held to his mouth, blood seeping from between his fingers.

Ran out of the room, disappearing from their sight.

It had been weeks before Thor had seen his brother again after that. Where he had gone, the elder prince had never known, and he'd never had the courage to ask. He knew only that Loki had somehow ripped the stitches from his lips, and in their place had been left terrible scarring, marring his once beautifully flawless and porcelain skin.

Over the years, Loki had taken to covering the scars with a spell of glamour. Thor thought in an attempt to make people forget the incident.

Maybe to make himself forget.

Loki had never spoken of it. Not once. Not a single time in the hundreds of years since it had happened.

He'd never made mention of it.

And perhaps what had unnerved Thor most of all, what had made his guilt eat away at his insides with unrelenting and merciless pressure, had been how Loki had failed to treat him any differently from what he ever had before. How Loki had continued to address and regard him the same. Engaging with him without apparent fear or hesitation, without any hint of hurt or even anger.

As though nothing had happened at all.

And when whispers of it would pass between the lips of the other Aesir before him, Loki would give no indication at all that he had heard them.

But Thor knew that he had.

How many times had he wanted to say it, but never could? How close had he come, how many times? How many times he _should_ have.

Thor's eyes fix on Loki now, sitting still and silent and so horribly resigned. He will not fight Odin's judgment. He will not struggle this time.

Thor feels his insides break.

He steps forward, towards his little brother. No one tries to stop him.

Sinks down before him on his knees.

Hand reaching out, grasping the younger prince behind the head, cupping the nap of his neck as he leans his forehead to his.

His eyes close, pressing back tears.

And he whispers to him, only for him…

"Loki, I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."

How many times he should have said it before…

/

**Again, a huge thanks to everyone who's read and left reviews. Your support is massively appreciated and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's a drawing done by one of my readers, evillives4eva. A huge thank you to her for lending her talents to my humble story! From chapter 2, Loki's punishment. Just copy and paste the link and remove the spaces:**

fav . me / d5lz2hc

**And a huge thank you, again, to everyone who's read, reviewed and favorited my story. Your support means the world to me! Hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Chapter 6:**

Thor holds tight to Loki's hand, even as the younger prince fails to grip back, his own, slender fingers slack within the thunder god's wide and calloused palm.

He hasn't let go of him since they moved from the palace entry, through the corridors and to the thrown room, and Loki hasn't protested, letting his older brother keep close to him despite his lack of outward response. Being brought before the dais, Odin having taken his place upon his thrown, the guards had tried pulling Thor away, but the crowned prince had growled viciously at them to leave him be, and Odin had nodded at them, telling them to step away.

Thor, at least, is grateful for that, sparing a glance at his father, even as another guard steps up behind Loki, placing heavy hands on the smaller gods shoulders and forcing him down to his knees.

Thor goes with him, still refusing to let him go.

If Loki is frightened, he's shown no sign of it, and yet Thor can't keep the terror he feels from his own face, his lips pulled severely into a frown, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as they settle over his little brother, taking in his haggard and wasted form. Abruptly Thor wonders how long it's been since Loki actually _ate_ anything. He doesn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. Loki has always been slight and small. But now he notices how painfully thin the younger prince is, how he looks as nothing so much as skin over bone, and suddenly he feels sick to his stomach, realizing in all these months, Loki has done naught to take care of himself at all.

The hall is empty save for the guards, Odin, and his two sons, but that changes fast when at once the doors seem to burst open and Frigga is coming through, her face twisted in panic and anger.

"Odin!" She cries. "What madness is this?" She strides long and fast towards them, gaze determined and unfaltering until through the guards her sons come into view, and she halts.

Her eyes widen as they fall across Loki's exposed and bloodied back and panic turns to naked horror at the sight of him, her words falling dead in her mouth.

And the tears are immediate to follow, streaming down her cheeks as without thought, she races to her youngest' side, falling to her knees beside him and reaching out, the tips of her fingers touching delicately to Loki's gaunt and pale face, gently as though afraid to touch harder might break him.

"Oh, my son, my beautiful boy…" she breathes, the air hitching in her throat, voice cracking.

And finally Thor sees Loki's mask of indifference shatter, his forehead creasing in deep lines, face crumpling like he might sob.

He turns away from Frigga, eyes fixed to the floor.

He can't look at her.

"Loki, Loki my son, please…" she continues to implore, fingers moving up, pushing long strands of sweat soaked and unkempt hair from the younger princes face, back over his ears.

But Loki refuses to meet her gaze, frozen stiff and looking away, his face pulled taught and an indiscernible tremor running through his frame, as though he's struggling desperately to hold it together, to not break apart in front of all of them.

Thor continues holding to his hand, watching his mother now, whose tears fall freely and unabashed.

"Loki…" she tries one last time, all the relief of having her son back upon her features, mixed with all the grief of what had become of him.

Her eyes shift to Odin, suddenly ablaze in fury.

"Odin, what is this?" She demands hotly. "You had him whipped? Why was I not made aware of this decision?"

"The boy has to be taught humility Frigga. We cannot spare him for risk of failing him." Odin replies sharply.

"And you would have him humbled before the whole of our subjects?" She spits back. "With not even an acknowledgement towards him? How, my husband, will that teach Loki anything but further anger and disappointment?"

Odin sighs, his one eye shifting away in clear exasperation.

"I will not have my decrees questioned." He says, voice edged hard but spoken softly.

"And what now does my King _decree_?" Frigga stands, finally removing her hands from her sons face, stepping towards the thrown, ascending the steps. "What punishment now for our _son_?"

Odin glares back at her, watching her a moment in silence.

Thor can feel Loki trembling harder, his face shifting further down, like trying to disappear within himself. Thor thinks he might vanish completely, if not for the replaced shackles upon his slender wrists, binding his magic to him.

"His lips are to be sewn, his words silenced." Odin finally speaks, voice unwavering in his judgment.

Frigga's eyes widen in horror.

"Odin, no…" her voice comes out a whisper.

She takes a step closer up the steps.

"_Why_?"

"He used incantation, he could easily have escaped." Odin says. "His magicks are powerful Frigga, you know this. We cannot risk…"

"But why _this _Odin?" She cuts him off. "Why this cruelty? You could as easily silence his voice another way."

"His lips must be _bound_, wife." Odin booms, voice rising in agitation. "He needn't speak the words aloud to form them. You know his power is _great_. And until he learns to wield it with responsibility, this is the judgment he must suffer."

"But it is _cruel_!" Frigga continues to argue, voice cracking with emotion.

"AND _HE_ IS CRUEL!" Odin's voice rises further, plunging the room into utter silence.

The All-Father stands, tensed, face hardened into a mask of rage, nearly vibrating with it a long moment before, abruptly, all the energy seems to drain from him, his shoulders slumping.

"I take no pleasure in this." He says, voice at once tired.

And for the first time since entering the thrown room, Loki's eyes lift from the floor, fixing on the All-Father, watching him with an unwavering intentness.

He can feel the words, sitting, ready to burst forth from the tip of his deemed too quick tongue, and it takes every bit of his restraint to keep them down.

He wants to scream, to yell and cry and explode in_ rage_ at this… this man who dares still act justified in his _abuse_. And there is no doubt in Loki's mind that abuse rings as the appropriate term for what the All-Father has done to him. Not physical, no, because himself Odin has never raised a single hand against. But for all the things he did _not_ do, therein Loki found himself wronged. So many _times _wronged.

All the words never spoken for him. Only for Thor. Words of pride and love and affection, in their place Loki only ever found silence. Or looks of such utter disappointment, to be on the receiving end of just one had more times than he would ever admit sent Loki to his private chambers to collapse on his bed and cry like some pathetic and ruined child, confusion suffocating his insides for his inability to understand what he was doing _wrong_.

He'd never understood how to make Odin love him the way he had Thor. He'd never understood _why _he didn't until… until…

His teeth clench as he feels the unwanted desperation welling up inside his chest again, threatening to push up into his throat and escape his lips in some tortured whine.

He looks away, body stiffening as he fights to hold it in, the sting at the back of his eyes unrelenting.

Oh, Gods, why is he so _weak_?

He had told himself he was beyond this now.

But even in this, he fails.

He fails, he fails, he fails…

He fails in _everything_.

What happens next, he isn't really aware of, his mind having folded in on itself, and the voices of those around him fading into so much shapeless noise as they discuss his fate.

He only comes back to the present when before him, several men step, and he still feels the weight of Thor's giant hand wrapped around his own. His eyes flicker, finding Frigga, turned away from him now, turned too from Odin and Thor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

And Loki can't help the way his heart seizes up and catches in his throat when he sees the dwarf, and for a moment he's sure, he's _sure_ it's Brokk, and panic blooms irrationally, painfully in his heart as the thought suddenly seeps through his brain that Thor…

Thor is still holding onto him and he's… he's going to hold him down, isn't he? He's going to hold him down like he's nothing, nothing, nothing, and they're all going to laugh at him. They're all going to laugh at how weak and pathetic and useless he is at everything. And Thor's going to… he's going to hurt him and hold him and crush him to the floor like he's nothing while Brokk… while Brokk…

"Loki…" he hears Thor's voice beside his ear, speaking quietly. "Loki, it is alright. I am here. It will be alright."

Loki stills, and he hadn't even realized he'd been moving at all until he feels Thor's other hand against his ruined back, quieting him. But the touch is gentle, not harsh, and somehow Loki relaxes with it, somehow he knows it's not to hurt him.

And as the dwarf (not Brokk) steps near, needle and thread thick with magic between stubby fingers, it is at last Loki's hand curls around Thor's, gripping back as tightly as he can, a grip which would shatter the bones of any mortal to powder, but to Thor, the pressure barely is felt.

The elder prince reaches up, brushing a lock of stray, unruly hair back from Loki's forehead, beaded with sweat, watching his little brothers face as he struggles to school it into an expression of indifference. But the heave of his chest up and down tells the tale better than his features, the way his eyes are locked on the dwarf, unblinking and wide, refusing to look away.

Thor leans in close, unable to help the escape of a tear down his cheek as he whispers…

"Let it happen little brother. It will be less painful if you just let it happen."

Odin looks away, his body rigid, hand gripped white knuckled around his staff.

A rush of nauseating familiarity washes through Thor as the dwarf stands, face even with his brothers on his knees, and he reaches out, taking hold of Loki's jaw.

"Be gentle with him!" Thor hisses, in his voice the warning of all the fury he will bring down should the dwarf hurt Loki any more than is necessary.

The dwarf spares the elder prince a glance before returning his gaze to that of the younger, Loki's eyes still fixed unfaltering on him.

"This will hurt." The dwarf says plainly to him in warning.

Loki says nothing, the sheen in his eyes the only indication in his face of the moments emotion.

When the needle pierces flesh, Loki's frame tightens viciously, rigid and hard, every muscle pulling taught as a bow string, and Thor can feel the trembling through him, vibrating down to his fingertips, hand gripping harder now to the point of pain. Thor does not move. Watches Loki's lids clamp shut, head bowing slightly as he holds his lips closed, swallowing thickly and raggedly. And Thor can see the scream wanting to escape his throat, wanting to burst forth. But Loki won't let it.

Loki doesn't make a sound.

And Thor thinks how much braver, how much stronger his little brother is than any of them ever gave him credit for.

Only their mother. Only Frigga.

Frigga, who's turned from the scene, who cries still silently into her palms, shivering with the wash of her misery.

With the forth pass of the needle through flesh, blood now dripping freely in thin, red lines down Loki's chin, thread pulling tight in a whipstitch pattern across the ridges of his lips, it is at last the tears brimming in Loki's eyes fall too, slipping soundless down his hollowed cheeks.

His lids remain closed, and he trembles terribly against the will to fight.

He hears Thor's voice, telling him to stay calm, to stay still, that it will be alright. Everything will be alright.

But nothing's alright.

Nothing has ever been alright.

He thinks…

Nothing ever will be.

And then, at once, it's done.

The dwarf lets his face go, and is stepping back, and speaking.

Telling the All-Father the task is finished.

And Loki is still gripping so hard to Thor's hand, still shaking, eyes still shut tight against the harsh and unforgiving light of _Asgard_.

He never has been a part of that light.

Loki has ever been one who belonged only to shadows.

And in shadows now he wishes to remain.

To be away from the light, where they all can see…

Where they all know because they can see the _monstrosity_ of him.

A monster…

A _monster_…

His eyes snap open, and he feels Thor holding him still, hears Thor speaking to him and he shouldn't be. He _shouldn't_. He shouldn't _touch_ something like him, the golden prince, the sun, blindingly, brilliantly _bright_. He shouldn't be marred by inky, black shadow and darkness like _him_.

The feeling overtakes him, a kind of almost panic, almost dread, and abruptly, violently, he rips his hand from Thor's own, pushing up against the larger gods shoulder, shoving him away, managing to move him only inches.

Thor looks at him with confusion in his eyes, brow furrowed.

"Loki…" he begins, voice hushed as the younger prince scrambles back from him, legs kicking out against the floor, eyes wide and wet, rimmed red as he stares, head shaking with seeming urgency.

"Loki, brother…" Thor reaches for him, and Loki only pushes back farther.

"Brother, I will not hurt you." Thor tries, unable to keep the horrified desperation from his voice at the terror he sees in Loki's eyes, thinking himself the cause.

But the younger prince only shakes his head once more, and now both Odin and Frigga turn, watching the scene with shocked and uneasy expressions.

"… Loki?" Frigga comes down the steps cautiously, stepping towards him, hands held out.

Loki's head snaps in her direction, staring back with the same, wide eyes, shining, and she can't keep herself from flinching at the horribleness of the whipstitch through his lips, at the blood which flows thick and too dark red from them, down his pale, pale skin.

Again, his head shakes, for a long moment, the two of them looking back at one another, frozen. Until finally, suddenly, Loki turns from her, from Thor and from Odin and the dwarf, his back to them as he rolls, almost lethargically to his knees.

And they watch, all of them, in sickening sorrow as Loki's hands come up over his ears, chain between the manacles clinking, long, thin fingers digging viciously into his scalp as he clamps down.

And they cannot see how his eyes shut, or the way his usually stoic face pulls up in nothing less than agony.

But they can hear it. And see the workings of it through his thin, thin frame. The terrible shaking as from his throat there comes a sound like devastation, muffled and warped for the stitches pushing it back down.

He doesn't move from that spot.

Just sits there, on his knees, hands pressed, fingers clawing over his ears as the room fills with the quiet, and only the softness of that despairing cry.

Something so unlike the Loki of manhood.

Something so much more like the Loki Thor had known as a boy.

And oh how he thought he never would rue this day, to see so blatant a glimpse of the brother he'd known, for the pain it now causes his heart.

It presses upon him like suffocation.

And suddenly Thor feels hardly as though he can breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much again guys for all of your reviews and for just caring about my story enough to read it. Once more, I can't tell you how much it means to me. I hope you continue to enjoy!**

**Chapter 7:**

He cannot take this.

He cannot.

Weeks now, Loki has been imprisoned beneath the palace, entrapped in the dungeons of Asgard, taken out each morning to be chained and flogged in the town square before groups of spectators, riled and jeering as though observing some game or sport, whilst Odin All-Father sits seemingly idle, conducting private sessions with his many advisors as to what fate should befall his youngest, adopted son.

And Thor cannot take it.

Still Loki's lips are sewn, and while for them sustenance in not a thing of necessity, the pangs of hunger still do inflict them. And the thunder god knows Loki suffers immeasurably.

Each day, he has gone to visit him. Each day, Loki has refused to meet his eyes or acknowledge his presence.

And each day, Thor has felt his heart grow more heavy with conflict.

He cannot abide this any longer. War criminal or no, Loki is a _Prince _of this realm, and such treatment should never be afforded to one of his standing, no matter what he has done.

His brother is growing more frail by the hour it seems to him.

It is in his movements. In the way he holds himself.

Thor sees his hands shake. The way they often curl against his thin chest, fingers burying and kneading into the threadbare material of the tunic they've provided him, grasping as though for purchase as his eyes stare blank and unfocused past the elder Prince, to the wall or floor or some other, indistinct spot. His face is equally flat, giving no emotion. But Thor can always see the agony he bears through the deep lines etched across his visage.

His brother is a shell of himself.

His little brother, who always sat so straight and tall, his ridge backed posture always so perfect, emitting a regality which put the rest in the royal court to shame and made them seem not befitting their own titles. He now sat hunched and curled in on himself, pushing himself into as little a space as possible, looking all the more insubstantial for it. And where once his eyes had shown with an inextinguishable light, so luminously bright and alive and filled with wonder, they now sat sunk into his too thin face, dull and blind and shattered, as though they'd seen too much and could see no more.

Thor longed to ask him what it was that had so robbed those eyes of their beauty. But where once his brother's lips spouted from them the greatest of witticisms and beautifully crafted word, where once he'd brought delight with his stories and tales of grand adventure and intellect and scholarly notions, and the greatest of humor; Thor remembers there was never another who could make him so _laugh _as Loki did, now there came no sound at all. Now those lips were sealed and ruined, and Loki made not even an attempt at noise, at communication of any sort.

And Thor could not _take_ it.

This was not justice. This was not what Loki _needs_.

And by the Norns, Thor cannot understand why Odin refuses to see this. Why his father, their father, is being so _cruel_.

Thor had begun to realize himself these last weeks, these last months… had begun to realize before even, when he'd thought he'd lost Loki… when he'd been so sure… so sure his brother had been dead, he'd begun _then_ to realize that Loki had not been okay. That for a long, long time, his little brother had been anything but. And he, in his foolish and blind arrogance had not _seen _it. Had not understood…

But now he does.

Now he understands so well, if even Loki himself refuses to acknowledge it.

Loki needs to be shown… to be proven to that he is cared for.

That he is _loved_.

He _needs _that.

And, Thor has already decided, he cannot be given what he needs in this _place_.

Not in Asgard.

He will not find it here.

Thor knows it is away from here, away from the place they both had grown into men, that he needs to take his little brother.

Anywhere from here…

Thor is going to help Loki escape.

Gods, help them, he is going to do this…

/

Loki lays back against the wall of his stone prison, hard and sharp against him. Beneath him a thin mat which does little more to protect him from the same aspects of the floor.

But he hardly feels it anymore.

Hardly thinks of comparison to the soft, lush bedding of his former rooms, or the way his body would practically sink into the mattress, his head into the yielding pillow those nights he found sleep, and he felt safe… and warm… and…

He hardly thinks of it now.

He hardly does…

Anyway, he thinks, it's cool down here, and he prefers the cold, doesn't he? Of course he does. He always has.

He remembers strange looks and barely hushed whispers of how strange he was for shielding himself from the sun as he did. For seeking out shade and cool waters to wallow in. Remembers being laughed at for his pale skin, in a world where all the beings were touched with golden, honey colored tone.

"_It isn't any wonder you're so ghostly white my Prince. Do you hide from the sun for fear it will expose some unbecoming truth of you_?"

Loki's lips pull up in an unintended smirk, and he immediately regrets it as he feels the sharp sting of the stitches, tearing at his skin. His hand comes up, shaking fingers grazing over lips and pulling away. He stares blearily down at the tips, seeing tiny specks of smeared red.

His hand curls against his chest, burying in the fabric of the tunic, and his eyes close.

He's so tired.

But he can't sleep.

He's only drifted, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness so many times. Dipping into its most shallow end only to be ripped back viciously into the waking world, barely formed nightmares dancing against the backs of his eyelids, filling his vision.

He thinks maybe it's his brain trying to spare him the agony of such dreams. It won't let his body rest for fear of what it will see there.

But he wishes so desperately he could just sleep. Just for a little while. If only to cease the over-ticking rotation of his mind and all its terrible thoughts. To break away from this reality for a while.

He doubts any dream could be more bleak than the reality of how far he's fallen.

Oh, how far he's fallen…

He thinks each day will be the day. He is filled with paranoia. Each sound, each clink and noise and voice, it snaps his head up, eyes staring, searching out through the tiny, barred window of his cell door. And he expects to see them.

To see him…

Come to pay him for his failure.

And it makes him think of their hands on him. Of digging claws, and sinking teeth.

Of being stripped naked and held restrained to the surface of a barren moon, magic gone to him, power gone, because he was never anything without it, never anything without his _tricks_. Hands and claws and teeth on him, tearing and pulling and hurting.

It had been violent curses and condemnation to leave his mouth first, promises of recompense and punishment. For how _dare_ they lay their filthy hands upon a prince of Asgard, a son of Od…

Did they not know who he was?

Did he not…?

The fight in him hadn't been long before he'd been reduced to begging, and his lip curls at the memory, ignoring the sting.

He'd actually _begged_. Cried and pleaded for them to stop, to _please stop_. The humiliation was terrible as the pain, and from them had come no response but more of the same.

He'd tried promising them things, tried bargaining and selling and convincing. But his so renowned silver tongue had failed him too, had fallen leaden in his mouth, the words choked out and swallowed with the taste of copper back down his raw throat.

Until finally all that came from him were screams, ripped and unrestrained from his body as each day brought new forms of the same torture. Screams to sobs, sobs to silence, when at last he would lie there and make no sound at all, for all sound had been robbed of him.

And he remembers, with greater shame still, with the greatest shame of all…

His hands come up, fingers burying and tugging helplessly at his tangled, dirty hair, face screwed up at the memory…

_His_ name had fallen from his lips… So many times. So very many, many times. The last words to leave him before all articulation had been lost. He'd cried out, hopelessly…

"_Thor! Thor, please! Please help me_! Please!"

He hates himself.

Oh Gods he…

He can't do this…

He can't…

His hands drag down, over his ears, nails cutting into his scalp.

Gods, make this _stop_!

There is noise outside his cell, a muffled cry, what sounds like a struggle.

Loki tenses immediately, head snapping up, staring… waiting…

His heart feels suddenly like it is going to explode beneath his rib cage, and his hands plant, palms down on the stone floor, fingers digging in, ready to push himself to his feet.

He doesn't know why. It won't make any difference what he does if…

If…

He sees Thor's face in the window, staring through the bars at him.

And Loki thinks he must _truly _be cursed.

Of all the times for his buffoon of a not-brother to come and…

Thor is opening the door then.

Why is _Thor _opening the door and not the…

Suddenly the thunder god is on him, reaching out for him and speaking…

"We haven't much time brother. To your feet. We must go."

Loki pushes back from him, staring up with confused eyes.

Thor doesn't hesitate, reaching down, grabbing hold of the younger gods forearm and pulling him up.

Loki's eyes are locked on Thor's face, and he doesn't think he's ever been more frustrated in his inability to speak than now. He has no idea of what the dolt is doing, or the reason for the urgency in his voice, but it's doing nothing to calm his already frayed nerves.

He pulls his arm free of the elder gods grip, stepping back and shaking his head, still staring straight at Thor.

"Loki, _come_." Thor hisses, his usually boisterous voice low.

Again Loki shakes his head, stepping away once more, his back now hitting the wall.

Clear mistrust shines in his eyes, and Thor feels his heart sink at the sight.

"Brother…" he whispers softly, approaching slowly, hands held out. "I'm here to take you away from here. To… to help you escape."

Loki blinks, his expression falling.

He doesn't understand.

"But Loki, I need your help. I cannot do this without you. The Bifrost is unusable still and only you know the different paths to other realms."

Loki continues staring at him a long moment, his eyes shifting over Thor's shoulder, to behind him, looking out through the opened doorway.

This cell is imbued with Odin's magic. So long as he remains in it, his own is bound and useless to him.

If he were to step outside it, he would feel his power surge fully back into him.

And suddenly he thinks this must be some sort of trap, or a… a test of some kind. To see if he would again commit treason against the All-Father's word.

Thoughts of worse punishment hurdle through his imagination, and he slides along the wall, pressing himself back into the corner, again shaking his head as finally his gaze averts down.

"Loki, we haven't time for this!" Thor hisses, losing his patience. "Do you think I try and trick you?"

Loki looks back up, eyes wide and shining.

Thor scoffs.

"Have you ever known me for my guile? Do you honestly believe myself capable of tricking the _trickster god_?"

The younger prince continues looking back, motionless, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. Thor can see him thinking.

"Have you really lost such confidence in your talents and gained it in me the same?" He asks.

And finally, finally, this draws a reaction, Loki snorting indignantly, the shine in his eyes flashing with something close to annoyance.

Good.

That was good.

Thor needs him angry. Because when Loki is angry, he is focused, and he was going to need to focus if they were going to pull this off.

Slowly, Thor holds out a hand, fingers spread, offering it to his brother.

"Come." He says again, more softly. "Mother is waiting for us outside the entrance. She has prepared for us essentials for our travels."

He takes a cautious step closer.

"Loki, we must make haste." He reiterates. "Father rests now, but Heimdall's eyes are ever open. Should he turn his gaze upon us, he will see."

He watches Loki's eyes shift back over him, to the open door, before snapping again to his face, still his own etched in doubt.

And for the briefest of moments, Thor glimpses something like longing in Loki's eyes. Something like desire and need and desperation.

"Mother wishes to say goodbye to you Loki. It is her who has cleared our way out of here."

And the desperation turns to something like despair in Loki's eyes, like pain, and he looks away, looks down as though in shame, his hands coming up, long, long fingers curling into long, dark hair.

Thor closes the rest of the distance between them, his hand coming down, resting gently on Loki's thin shoulder, feels the tension and the trembling through his skinny frame.

"It is you, brother, who must accomplish our escape." He says. "Can you do it?"

Loki looks up, staring up at Thor. Broad, tall Thor, so thick and strong and golden.

His eyes are wet, but still he can see the _beauty _of Thor through it.

And he feels so unworthy of it all.

He nods.

Only once.

He doesn't react as Thor pulls him into an embrace. Doesn't move as Thor holds him tight against himself, gripping him hard as though his very life depends upon it.

Doesn't make a sound as he thinks about what little kindness he's ever deserved.

Thor's kindness, he's certainly never deserved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Her arms wrap around him, pulling him tight, hand reaching up to cup along the back of his head.

He hears her breathe out slowly, relaxing against him as the breath shutters and her face is against his shoulder.

"My son…" she whispers, and there's so much ache in her voice, he doesn't think he can bear it.

His eyes close, and he feels unworthy as his arms come up and wrap round her the same.

He doesn't think he should touch her. Oh, but he wants so badly to feel her embrace, the last kind memory he has of that singular moment before Thor came back.

That brief instant, when _he _was the hero. When _he_ had saved her, and Odin, and Asgard. When she had believed him if only for that instant to be a _worthy_ son.

How he'd ruined it all…

Because everything he touched turned to ruin…

And he shouldn't touch her…

"I promise you Loki," she says. "someday this will be right again. Someday you will return to your place here."

He wants to tell her he has no place. He has no _home_. And she lies to herself if she truly believes he can ever come back here, that he can ever regain what was false standing to begin with.

If he flees from here now, there will be no coming back.

But he can tell her nothing.

Can only hold on, and pray to whatever being it is gods pray to that it is enough, and she will understand it was never her, it was never _she_ he felt his anger towards, and never would be.

It was only her whom around he'd never felt _lesser_.

And her only who never had he felt the desire to _hurt_.

Who could drive him to desire the taking back of all he'd done.

The irony doesn't escape him, that in her comforting him now, he feels the absoluteness of his own unworthiness.

How now he hates himself in her presence.

It's finally she pulls away from him, reaching up and taking his face in her hands.

"Loki." She says, trying to catch his eyes.

He won't look at her.

"My boy…" she goes on, not giving up, staring intently up at him.

Until finally, his eyes lift, and he stares back through a wash of wetness. He tells himself they aren't tears. But when he blinks, the wetness escapes down his cheek, and Frigga brushes her thumb across it, wiping it away.

She smiles, the expression forced, pushing her fingers up through his hair, away from his face as her own eyes shine with tears now.

"You were always so horribly aware, weren't you? So sensitive to the things around you."

Loki's eyes shift down, frame tensing, heat unwanted flushing to his cheeks.

Frigga's hand cups along the back of his neck.

"There is no shame in that Loki." She says. "You've been made to think it makes you weak. That to _feel_ makes you weak. My son, it is just the opposite. You have_ ever_ been of sensitive heart, and it is that above all else which has made you so very strong. Loki, listen well, your rejection of who you are will lead only to failure. You must understand this. Tell me you understand this."

Loki gives no response.

Frigga grips him harder.

"_Show _me you understand Loki." She demands more firmly. "You've lost your way in trying to be what you are not. Show me Loki, or I fear for you out there."

And at last, the mischief god replies, giving a single, short nod, his eyes still away.

Frigga stares back a long moment, gaze unfaltering, before finally she gives her own nod, pushing up on her toes, cupping his cheeks as she presses her lips to his forehead.

"I love you Loki." She whispers quietly against his ear. "Know that. I will _always_ love you."

And his shame burns deeper, and he cannot look at her, because he loves her too. He loves her so much. But he can tell her _nothing_, and his silence is his own doing, his own, earned _burden_.

He can blame no one but himself for the pain his mother… his _mother_ feels.

And he never desired to hurt her.

Frigga steps away, her eyes on him a short while longer, before at last she turns to Thor, standing aside, waiting, reaching out and placing her hands along his broad, broad shoulders, smiling up at him.

"Take _care _of him Thor." She says softly. "You keep your brother safe."

Thor nods.

"I will. I promise I will Mother. I shall let no harm befall him."

Her smile widens.

"I know my son. I know you will not." She says, only the slightest waver in her voice, unable to keep completely the worry from her creased brow.

Thor rests his own hands on her shoulders, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

"All will be well Mother." He says quietly. "Rest easy knowing we will not abandon you."

Loki watches in silence Thor and Frigga embrace, keeps his gaze on them a long instant, before he feels he cannot take it any longer, and he glances away, his arms coming up around himself.

He sees the packages she has made for their travel, sitting against the wall, packs they can carry on their backs, filled fully, knowing Frigga… knowing his mother, with every kind of amenity for wherever their wandering will take them.

And Loki wonders where they will go.

Where Thor will allow them to go.

He carries no illusions as to who holds the power now. He will not try to go against Thor's will. To do so would be foolish. In his current state, something close to suicidal. His magic is drained, weak, though he could feel the surge of its energy flow back into him with forceful impact the moment he stepped from the cell. It will take days before he regains the full strength of it, and he prays silently he has enough left now to carry he and Thor from here safely. That he doesn't trap them between the branches of Yggdrasil. Doesn't trap them there, in the void. In darkness…

In nothing, where he seemed for an eternity to float, to fall, endlessly and forever into something beyond blackness.

The thought sends an ice chill through his very bones, and his eyes close, willing it from his mind, those bright flashes of white and blue and red, stars whirling past at speeds too fast to focus, until there were no stars anymore, and only… only…

"Let us go now brother."

He feels Thor's hand on his shoulder. His eyes open and he's looking up into his face.

Thor smiles at him.

"Are you ready?"

Loki nods.

He isn't sure if that's the truth… or a lie.

/

He's holding onto Thor, grasping his hand tightly, looking into his face. Thor is looking back, and Loki can't understand the trust he sees there.

He's never understood it in Thor.

How fully he trusts, how completely and without question he's _always _trusted, and how Loki Sivertongue, Loki liesmith, Loki the betrayer has _always_ taken such advantage of it. Always used it to trick and deceive and fool, to get what he wanted and care not for the consequences of his actions…

And when those consequences began to hurt…

How Thor could trust him now, he doesn't understand at all.

Thor hasn't told him yet where they're going. He hasn't specified, and Loki feels unsure.

He looks back at the elder prince, the question in his eyes, trying to convey it.

Thor smiles softly.

"Where you have strength to take us brother." He says. "So long as it is not a place of hostility towards us."

Loki almost snorts at that, wanting to laugh.

Thor doesn't understand yet it seems, doesn't realize… there is no place in the Nine Loki is wanted. No place not hostile towards him.

Loki thinks Thor will understand then soon enough.

And he won't blame Thor either when he realizes, won't blame him when he abandons him for it.

But he has to focus now. He has to focus _hard_, or they'll both be dead.

So his eyes close, and he thinks. He sees beyond here, peering beneath the surface of what's tangible, to what lays behind.

It feels as though pulling aside a thick drape to reveal a sunlit clarity, and he feels separate from himself, and separate from Thor. As if watching the both of them through some pan of cut glass.

It feels like _freedom_.

And he breathes it in, this power, because he _remembers_…

Remembers that same, awesome _relief_ the first time he did this. The first time he discovered the secret paths, and oh gods, how he felt he could do _anything_ then, could _be_ anything.

And he remembers joy… actual _joy_ at his accomplishment. At the knowledge he was unique among his people. The only of his kind to posses the ability to walk these ways, to carry the talent and the drive and the intelligence to do so…

And maybe he'd felt something like pride then. That it was Loki Odinson, _Loki_, who could do a thing that none of the rest of them could ever _hope_ to. Not Thor, not Odin. _None_ of them. Only he.

But how that joy had lasted but an instant, as it dawned within him how he never would be allowed to share his discoveries, for surely he knew he would be ridiculed and met with paranoid accusation and fear over a thing forbidden within the kingdom.

They wouldn't _understand_. They wouldn't see the great potential of being able to travel the Realms without the aid of the Bifrost, and between the Realms, the spaces between. The potential to _learn_ and _discover _and _expand_.

They would see only something to them unnatural and dangerous. Something _uncontrollable_.

Their mistrust in him, and so their hatred would only grow more should they ever have discovered the reach of his power. And so he'd kept it hidden.

For so long, he'd kept hidden.

But he cannot think of this now.

He _cannot_.

He must focus.

"_Focus, you fool_…"

And so he does.

And he sees the spaces between.

He sees so many paths he can step upon, and ones he can lead Thor through. So many worlds and planes and realties they can go. Thousands upon thousands, all intertwined, all connected. All governed by an energy born of the same source.

He feels that energy course through him, binding with his own. Can feel the power to manipulate that energy at the tips of his very fingers.

Alive.

He feels _alive_.

And there is choice here.

He can _choose_.

And how long it has been since he could.

How very, very long.

Anywhere in the whole of the universe, it is his bidding, and there they shall go. He and Thor.

Any place, so many mapped out before him, waiting… just waiting…

He can _choose_…

Frigga's eyes go wide, the smell of magic thick on the air before there is a brilliant flash of white and green, no sound.

And then…

Nothing…

Where her sons stood an instant before, only wisps of green smoke now, twisting and curling into the air, evaporating as quickly as it came. The residue of Loki's energy, carrying with it silence into silence just the same.

They are gone.

And Frigga prays.

Gods, protect her children, wherever her youngest has deemed they go.

/

**Sorry for the short chapter guys. I promise the next one will be longer, and hope you enjoyed it anyway. As always, reviews are appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Again, a huge thank you to all my readers and reviews. You mean more to me than you know. As promised, longer chapter. I hope you enjoy, and as always, reviews are appreciated!**

**Chapter 9:**

The first thing he feels is the cold.

Hears the rush of something fierce, whipping past and around him.

And for one, horrifying moment, he's certain he's doomed them to the emptiness of space.

Sure his strength wasn't enough, and only halfway there, he's dropped them into the void, to fall forever into nothing, or into the clutches of unknown races of monsters, more befitting the title than the frost giants could ever be…

For one, staggeringly horrifying moment…

But then he opens his eyes.

And then he sees Thor, broad and handsome face, screwed up in shock and bewilderment, lids clamped shut and uncertain.

Feels Thor's hand, gripping back to his so tightly as to almost crush.

And then Loki sees beyond him, vast planes of snow and winter. Grey skies, and slowly falling crystal flakes. Expanses of mountains, sprawled out and around them, and hundreds upon hundreds of trees of pine, boughs weighed down and sinking with the snow upon them, drooping in discontent.

Gusts of wind kick up the flakes of ice in the air, lifting it from the ground in blinding swirls of white mist, dancing about in delicate, chaotic patterns.

The crystals whip against his exposed skin, and the cold he can tell is deep, though nothing as compared to Jotunheim. It doesn't hurt him.

He exhales through his nose.

Thor's eyes open.

He blinks, uncertain and blearily at first, until all at once, his gaze focuses on Loki, staring down at him in puzzlement a long moment, before his eyes shift away, to around them.

"… Where are we brother?" He asks.

Loki swallows.

He doesn't know why he's chosen here. What possessed him to choose this place, of all places.

It seemed impulse to him.

Or maybe some kind of imprinted memory was what drove him to it.

To all those centuries before, when once he and the gods of Asgard were believed in by man. Prayed and worshipped to. And not only here would they find refuge. They would find respect, and compliance, and yielding hands and minds, eager to please and make content.

Where once they were _feared_, and gratitude for their aid was given in grand gestures and sacrifice.

Loki thinks it must be that which drove him to choose this place, of all places. A moment of compulsion. And now that he has a moment to contemplate it, perhaps an ill-advised move.

This place has changed so very much since that time before, when poor farming families had prayed to _him_. And Loki had come down and saved them from wicked trolls and giants. And they had built alters to him, places of worship, and asked on him to help them in their distress in return for their loyalty and sacrificial beasts. Offered him their homes, their wine and their mead, their food and their women…

This place has changed so very much.

They believe in gods no longer.

He hasn't heard a prayer in near three hundred years…

Loki thinks to answer Thor, though hesitation grips his heart in that moment. He realizes suddenly the elder god may be angry at him for this, or grow suspicious of his intentions in bringing them here.

It turns out to hardly matter, as the trickster is reminded by the painful tug at his lips from the cord binding them closed and unusable. His hand lifts instinctively, fingers touching delicately to the bruised and raw flesh.

He has to get rid of this.

A familiar panic grips his insides, memories of the past again flooding his mind, the same panic having taken him before, the same urgency.

He has to get _rid_ of this.

He turns from Thor, hands covering his mouth, willing… trying to will the threads loose, to course his magic through them and unwind their hold. Sparks of paltry green light leap from the tips of his fingers, flickering in and out with inconsistence before dying away completely.

He's hunched over, and he doesn't even realize it as he begins to shake, brow creasing heavy as desperation takes hold, eyes wet as he tries again and again to summon his magic forward.

But it doesn't respond, and he nears sobs in frustration.

"Loki…" Thor questions, reaching a hand out, seeing his brothers distress.

He touches his shoulder, and Loki starts, turning and staring up at Thor with widened eyes, hands still lingering close to his lips.

Thor frowns, seeing the wisps of green dissipating like smoke from his brothers fingers. Suddenly he understands.

"You've expended yourself." He says, and Loki turns away again, hands clenching into fists at his side, frame continuing to tremble.

He walks several paces from Thor, feet dragging uncharacteristically through the thick snow.

"Brother, you are not well." Thor tries, following after him. "But your magic will return given rest and healing. It will take but a mere few days."

Loki continues walking, and he wants to scream at Thor that he can't _wait _those few days. That he needs the whipstitch gone _now_. He's _overwhelmed_ with the need. He feels nauseas with it, his head spinning and making him off balance. And despite their surroundings, he feels suddenly hot, sweat beading across his forehead.

"Loki…" Thor has again reached him, again taking hold of his shoulder.

This time, Loki doesn't move, just stands there, head bowed down, shaking still.

"You'll have the strength to rid yourself of the cord soon." The elder prince reassures softly.

Loki doesn't respond.

Thor sighs, lifting his head and glancing about again, taking in the frozen landscape.

"Where have you taken us brother?" He asks once more. "This isn't Jotunheim. You haven't taken us to Nilfheim, have you?"

He hears Loki snort, a puff of white breath gathering in the air before him.

He waves his hand, and before them, letters form in glowing green.

Thor stares a moment, bewildered, before he realizes abruptly what he's looking at.

"_No, you dolt_." The words say. "_We are in Norway_."

Thor's brow furrows.

"Norway?" He asks. "Of Midgard?"

Loki nods, still looking away, and Thor feels confusion take him.

He doesn't understand, of all the Realms he could have taken them… Midgard would be to Thor a place he was welcomed, but to Loki, he could think of no more hostile environment. They would seize and arrest him the moment they became privy to his presence here.

Or at least, they would _try_.

"… Loki." He again starts. "I had hoped you to bring us some place less… confrontational."

He pauses, thinking, a sickening sort of doubt seeping to his insides.

"Loki, you are not…"

Loki cuts him off abruptly, waving a hand in frustration, face twisting in a scowl. And Thor has to force himself not to look away at the sight of his lips splitting open and bleeding.

Another, faint flash of green, and more words have formed before him.

"_You have no cause to trust me_." They say. And now Loki is looking back at Thor with the concentrated intentness that used to make the elder prince so uncomfortable. Like his little brother can see straight through him, and all of the things inside which he wants no one to know.

Loki's eyes have ever been unnervingly intelligent, and so vividly, unnaturally green.

For a long moment, the two brothers only stand there, looking back at one another, until it's at last, Loki breathes out again through his nose, averting his gaze to the blue-tinted snow beneath their feet. Another flick of his wrist, and more words appear.

"_But I've brought us here with no ill-intent_." They go on. "_I will not attempt to take Midgard again. I only thought_…"

He pauses, a long, few seconds passing as he turns more fully away, shaking his head.

Thor watches him, waiting, thinking he's going to finish.

When Loki says nothing more, he steps closer.

"Loki…?"

Again Loki waves a hand, still looking away.

"_You should don the furs Mother packed before the cold sets in to you_." His words spell out. "_I will go and collect wood for a fire_."

Thor frowns.

"What about you?"

Loki doesn't spare a glance at him, only more words in the air.

"_I feel hardly a thing_." They say.

And Thor watches then as the younger god walks off, disappearing into the line of trees before him.

/

Loki had quickly gathered together a sizeable amount of dead wood and bark, returning after only around ten minutes, setting aside what wasn't needed for later before he'd assembled the rest into a pile and held his hand over it a long instant, a moment later the wood igniting, first in green fire, after a few seconds bleeding into a glow or orange and yellow flame.

Thor had been setting up camp when he'd emerged from the surrounding trees, laying out fur rugs and assembling some old logs he'd found lying around for them to sit on and keep their bottoms dry. He'd watched intently as Loki had lit the fire for them, fascinated by the process.

When they were much younger, and he'd first seen Loki use his magic to do the very same, he remembers chastising his brother for it, asking him accusingly what he would do if he ever found himself without his "tricks" and stranded in the wilds. Asking him how he would survive.

He remembers too how angry Loki had become, his voice rising uncharacteristically as he'd argued back that he could light a fire as well as anyone without the aid of his magic, but what need was there when he could more easily conjure flame the way he was.

Thor recalls how, later that same night, he'd come upon his brother, huddled in a hidden alcove deeper in the woods from where their party had camped. Loki hadn't noticed him there, which was in itself bizarre, as the mischief god _always_ knew when someone approached him, let alone when they were standing there and watching him.

But Loki had been distracted, Thor remembers, because he'd been trying over and over and over again to light a fire with two flint stones. And failing again and again at it.

Thor recalls with pained regret how Loki had eventually broken down, when for what must have been the twentieth time, he'd struck the stones together, and no fire was produced. How he'd dropped the rocks and covered his face with his hands, crying quietly to himself.

Thor had been conflicted at the sight.

He'd known Loki would never have allowed himself that moment of weakness if he'd known anyone was watching, and that he'd have been absolutely mortified if Thor had made himself known then and gone to him. He'd as well partially convinced himself that it was a lesson well learned for his little brother. That he had to understand sometime that his magic wasn't always going to be the only thing he needed, or something he could always rely on. That he needed to learn to survive without it, if it ever came to that.

He'd told Loki enough times that there were forces out there that could potentially rob him of his magic, and asked him what he would do in such an instance, often teasing him even that he would be as helpless as a fair maiden, what with his less than stellar skills in weapons and fighting.

Loki had always grown extremely heated over the taunts, and Thor had never understood it…

In the same instance, he'd also felt a horrible guilt at his brothers distress, he recalls, realizing he himself had likely been the cause of it. He hadn't meant to hurt Loki's feelings the way he had. But he hadn't known what to do.

In the end, he'd decided to walk away and leave Loki by himself.

It was a decision, in retrospect, that Thor regretted.

As, in retrospect, he now regretted many of his decisions regarding his brother.

And now they sit, across from one another, Thor having since put together a small pot over the fire, heating a canister of broth their mother had prepared for them.

Thor himself is wrapped in thick furs and pelts, his long hair hanging over and framing his face.

Loki sits in nothing more than the tunic and thin trousers he was wearing when they left, the only thing new the boots upon his feet, and even knowing of his Jotun heritage, the elder prince wonders how it is his brother isn't freezing.

He remembers wondering the same ever since they were children, and whenever caught in the cold, where everyone else had been shivering near uncontrollably at times, Loki had never shown nigh even a tremble. Had always been stone still and seemingly, almost illogically comfortable.

Whenever Thor had asked him about it, Loki had always just flashed him that ridiculously charming smile of his and laughed, telling him he just must have been tougher than the rest of them. And Thor would usually give him a good shove in return.

The night has grown darker from when they'd arrived now, nearly pitch black around them, save for the light from the fire and the above stars and moon. The surrounding forest gives off an eerie quiet, the only sound between them the crackle of the burning wood and the occasional sound of animal life within the trees. The scent of the soup cooking wafts into the air, and Thor feels his stomach rumble and mouth water in hunger.

He hasn't eaten since yesterday, he realizes, having been consumed by his plans to help his brother escape.

And he realizes only a second after that Loki hasn't eaten in _weeks_. Not since his lips were sewn. Perhaps a long time since before that even.

Loki has never been one to eat much. Thor knows that his little brother would often go days at a time without consuming a single thing, too consumed in his studies to remember himself at all. Self-neglect had ever been a problem for the younger god, and Thor recalls many times when Loki had to be forcefully reminded to eat or drink something, often when he would be taken by faintness during sparring sessions and the like.

But Loki is now almost grotesquely thin. Gaunt and unhealthy looking. Thor wonders how it is at all he is able to remain upright as he is. How he hadn't passed out already.

Sudden guilt takes hold of him, and all at once he doesn't want to eat anything, knowing Loki won't be able to do the same until the stitches are removed. Knowing the only thing which can do so is Loki's own magic, at the moment too weakened to undo the enchantments on the cord.

Loki is looking at him, watching him carefully, and he seems to sense Thor's guilt as he shakes his head, gesturing towards the heated soup.

Thor stares back, saying nothing, and Loki rolls his eyes, waving a hand, and again, his words form in the air.

"_Must I spell everything out for you_?" They ask. "_Eat, you buffoon. I can see you are hungry._"

Thor shakes his head now.

"I do not wish to eat in front of your brother." He says. "Not while you are denied the same privilege."

Loki sighs, shaking his head again in return.

"_I am fine_." He writes out. "_I will eat once I have removed this blasted stitching. Do not let that impede upon your own satisfaction_."

"Brother…"

"_I insist_!" Loki's words snap. "_And besides all that, you need to keep up your strength in case we are attacked. I'm in too weakened a state to be of much use in any fight at the moment._ _It won't do to have the both of us starved and delirious from hunger_."

For a moment, Thor only looks back at him, unsure, Loki meeting his gaze the same. Until finally, the elder prince can't help it, his lips turn up in a slight quirk, because he realizes Loki's logic is utterly sound, and he should have known better than to try and win an argument with his little brother.

And his smirk turns into a full on smile, suddenly heartened by the familiarity of this situation. To see something of Loki's old self, back in form. If only a sliver of it.

Loki again rolls his eyes, seeing Thor's happiness, finally turning away and waving a hand towards the soup, urging the elder god to take it.

And so Thor does.

/

The next hour passes in silence between the two, Loki throwing more sticks and bark into the fire each time it begins to die down, Thor watching quietly.

Until the thunder god begins to feel his eyelids droop with heaviness, the days events finally catching up to him in exhaustion, and he moves from where he is sitting towards one of the lain out animal skins, deciding it's time for sleep.

Loki doesn't shift from his position, his green eyes fixed upon and illuminated by the still burning flames.

Thor regards him carefully.

"Are you coming to bed brother?" He asks after a moment, concerned.

Loki seems to start, as though shaken from deep thought, and he looks up at Thor, for a moment appearing dazed.

Thor's brow furrows, frowning slightly.

"Sleep Loki." He says, and that seems to bring the younger prince back.

Loki shakes his head, waving his hand.

More words.

"_In a short while_." They say.

Thor continues to look back at him, uncertain.

Another wave of his hand.

"_You go. I wish to sit by the fire a time longer_. _I'll be to bed shortly_."

Thor doesn't argue, simply turning back towards his lain out skins and preparing his area and himself, removing his armor, unlatching Mjolnir from his belt and setting it down, making himself comfortable before finally lying down and pulling another extra felt over himself as a blanket.

A few, long minutes more pass in silence then, Thor listening to the sounds of Loki kindling the fire, shifting the wood around, occasionally throwing more into the pile.

Loki himself makes no noise.

His little brother has always been so very quiet.

It only causes Thor to grow more heavy lidded.

A few minutes more.

"… Loki?" Thor asks, voice slurred with wariness.

Loki looks up at him.

Thor's eyes are closed now.

It's another few seconds before he speaks again.

"… I am happy you are here with me brother." He says. "… I am happy I am here with you."

Loki keeps his gaze on him a long moment, still.

And then he looks away, back to the fire.

He replies nothing to that.

And Thor drifts to unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

**New chapter guys! Again, thank you for all of your support! I appreciate it more than I can say. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 10:**

Loki dreams of Odin.

Of himself as a child, and Odin there with him, watching him play in Frigga's garden.

He is laughing, and Odin is smiling.

Such warmth in that smile.

He runs to and from Odin, settled on a stone bench, bringing and presenting him with an array of different flowers he's picked from the surrounding bushes and beds.

Odin smiles more broadly with each offering, nodding and thanking him for his gift, and Loki can't help but grin in response, chest swelling with pride…

He dreams of memories…

"_Here Father!" He eagerly holds the bloom up, extending it out to Odin, wanting him to take it._

_Odin obliges, plucking it by the stem from Loki's tiny hands, holding it delicately between his thick fingers._

"_Even lovelier than the last flower Loki." He says softly, lips pulling up at their corners. "Thank you."_

_He grins, nodding._

"_It is red, like your cape Father!" He announces proudly. "I knew you would like it because of this."_

_Odin's brows rise._

"_Indeed I do my boy. Indeed I do."_

_Loki continues smiling before turning abruptly and running back off into the garden, no doubt to find more flowers for Odin to add to his growing pile._

_Odin chuckles at the boys enthusiasm, placing the one he holds down, along with a dozen or so others across the bench._

_Loki is yet very young, barely a toddler, but already frighteningly intelligent. Far ahead in his studies of even Thor, well past other children his own age._

_Odin feels a pride in his youngest, but worries for him too. For Loki, while clearly brilliant, is also fragile. The fates doling out balance, the All-Father supposes. And Thor is so strong, so robust for his age. His eldest tends to grow rough in his play, not yet understanding his own strength. He and Loki are inseparable, but he is often too hard with his little brother, and Loki often gets hurt…_

_And Loki can be such a strange boy, Odin thinks. For how many times the two of them have come back to the palace, Thor carrying his brother, injured beyond mobility. And yet the child never cries, not from physical pain. And when Odin chastises Thor for placing his brother in harms way, ever does Loki protest, insisting it to not be Thor's fault, to be his own for being so frail, proclaiming that someday, he will be strong like Thor, and then he won't be so easily hurt. Then Odin and Frigga won't have to worry so for him. He says it like a promise, and Odin feels his heart break, for he knows Loki will never be strong like Thor._

_And Loki is so very sensitive. _

"_Father! Father, look at me!"_

_Odin is startled from his thoughts, glancing up. His eyes find Loki, standing at the foot of a tall tree, grinning broadly, hands on his hips._

"_Father, watch me!" He shouts, and Odin's eyes grow large as he sees his youngest turn and begin climbing the trees thick trunk._

"_Loki, no!"_

_He lurches up from where he's sitting, on his feet in moments and rushing forward._

_Loki has barely made it a foot off the ground before he feels Odin's powerful hands grasping round his torso, under his arms, lifting him from the trunk and into the air, turning him, bringing him to the his broad chest and holding him tight._

"_No, Loki." He repeats more softly. "You mustn't do that. It is too dangerous."_

_Loki pulls back, staring up at Odin, brow furrowed in confusion._

"_But… but Thor does it!" He protests. "He climbs trees every day Father! Bigger than this one! He tells me 'Look at me brother!' and shows me how!"_

_Odin frowns._

"_Yes," he says. "but you must remember Loki, you and Thor are very different from one another."_

_Loki's forehead creases heavier._

"… _How?" He asks, and now his voice wavers slightly. "How are we so different that he can climb and I cannot?"_

_Odin sighs, glancing away a moment, seeing his youngest is verging on tears. He hates doing this to his son._

"… _Thor is very strong Loki." He finally begins. "You know this."_

"_But I can be strong too Father!" Loki cries, and now there are tears in his eyes, pooling thick. "I can be too! I can climb as well as he can!"_

_Odin looks back to him, still holding him secure as Loki's little hands rest on his shoulders._

"_You are more slight than your brother Loki." He tries explaining gently. "More easily hurt."_

"_But… but I can be s-strong Father. I can be…" Loki's voice grows weaker, less sure. "I… I want to be strong like Thor." And now he buries his face against Odin's shoulder, trembling as he begins to sob. "I want to be…"_

_Odin's face lines in hurt._

"_You will be strong my son." He says, cupping him delicately behind the head. "In other things. You will excel in other areas."_

"_B… but I don't want to." Loki continues to cry. "I want to be strong like Thor. To… to be a brave w-warrior like him…"_

"_You will be my boy. You will." Odin promises. "But you must know your limitations first. You must accept them, and focus your energies on what you can be good at. Loki…"_

_Odin leans back slightly, gazing down at his son._

"_If you were to fall, and something were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself. Do you understand? I would never forgive myself if I were to lose you."_

_Loki nods, his face again buried against Odin's shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his neck._

_And he feels Odin hold him back, his own, strong arms tight round his body._

_His frail… frail body._

_Squeezing tighter…_

_Painful…_

"… _F-Father, you're… you're hurting me." He chokes as Odin's arms wind tighter still, almost crushing him._

_And panic explodes inside his chest._

"_Father, p-please, you're…"_

_He feels the breath ripped from him as Odin takes hold and slams him back hard against the tree, pressing him with unrelenting pressure against the trunk, his face twisted in rage and disgust, his one eye blazing with bitter hate and disappointment._

_Loki's eyes go wide, staring up at him, frozen and unable to move, mouth hung open in a scream which won't sound._

"_You pathetic, useless _weakling_!" Odin snarls. "You disgust me, with your simpering vulnerability. How I could have ever thought you were worthy to be _my _son, I do not know. You are no son of mine, Loki _Laufeyson_. No child of Asgard. I should have left you to _die _in that temple that day, in the cold of that wretched realm from whence you came!"_

_Loki shakes his head, tears thick in his eyes, streaming hot down his face. He tries to speak, to say no, to show him _no_, he's wrong, he's wrong, he's wrong…_

_He _is_ a worthy son. He is! He promises he is. He promises…_

Please Father, please, just give me a chance to prove myself, just give me one cha_…_

_Odin's calloused palm crushes over his face._

_He's suffocating._

_He can't breathe!_

_He's going to die here! _

_Crushing him, pressing him, down, down, down, everything into darkness._

_He's going to die…_

_He's going to…_

His eyes snap open.

Blinding, white light searing against them, the blue sky awash in a thick film of something.

A strangled gasp escapes past his bound lips, sucking air, breathing in desperate, another gasp.

And he turns over, covering his face in his hands, wetness down his cheeks, heart hammering in his ears, against his ribcage.

Breathe, breathe, _breathe_…

A dream…

It was only…

He feels the cold of snow, seeping through to his skin, more wet.

His hands come down, palms planting flat in the hard packed white, eyes opening, blinking rapid.

The taste of copper on his tongue, caked, dried blood along his torn lips.

Midgard…

Norway…

Not Asgard…

Not…

_Thor_…

He lifts himself onto hands and knees, turns, seeing him there.

Thor, still sleeping, covered in thick skins and furs. Barely visible beneath the layers, snoring loudly.

Unknowing.

He shutters viciously, arms coming up around himself, turning away. Blinking the wetness from his eyes.

Only a dream.

It was only…

… A dream…

/

Thor starts awake, sitting up quickly. He doesn't know why, but he feels panic in his heart, a feeling of dread settling over him.

He turns, seeing last nights fire, having long since gone out, only the remains of burnt wood and bark to tell of its existence.

And then he remembers…

Loki…

His eyes search, falling upon a set of furs, lain out and clearly slept in, tossed with snow half piled onto them, almost as if there had been a struggle.

Thor feels his mouth go dry.

He doesn't see his brother.

No sign of him, save for his still filled pack of supplies. From what Thor can tell, none of the extra coats or clothing have been removed.

His panic blossoms, whatever sleep is left in his blood vanishing, and he rockets to his feet, tossing his own furs aside, turning, gaze searching almost frantically.

"Loki!" He calls, seeing nothing. "LOKI!"

No answer.

His mind runs rampant, and suddenly he imagines, suddenly is _sure_ they've taken him. That Heimdall has seen them and Odin's men have been sent, that they've come and taken Loki against his will while he slept, whisked him back to Asgard for now worse punishment.

Horror and guilt wash through him, his face falling in dismay.

No… _No_, he should have… he should have known this would happen. He should have _known_.

He swore to Mother that he would protect Loki, and now… now he's let him be kidnapped and sent back to more torture and…

Damn him and his stupidity. He should have _known_ this would happen, he shouldn't have gone to sleep, he should have stayed awake and kept watch over his brother. His little brother. He _knew _Loki wouldn't be able to defend himself now. That he was still too weak, too depleted to protect against an attack.

Damn it, _why _had he let himself sleep when…

"Loki!" He cries again, eyes welling with tears, turning in a circle, searching desperately. "Loki, please, I am sorry. Do not be gone, please. Do not be. I should have protected you, I should have…"

He stops, spotting the prints in the snow, headed towards the tree line. A single set.

For a moment, there is overwhelming relief, wiping the back of his hand against his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

But then he looks closer, and he sees the tiny drops of blood, dotting the pristine white of the ground.

His panic returns, and in a fury, he holds his hand out, calling Mjolnir to him, barely waiting for the feel of its hilt pressing into his palm before he's off, running towards the thicket, heart pounding in his ears.

"LOKI!" He calls again, feet carrying him as quickly as he can through the thick snow, frustration taking him at the way it slows him down, following the tracks as he goes. "LOKI!"

He bursts through the trees, hammer raised at the ready, prepared to smite any who would dare lay their hands upon his brother, eyes wide and searching, left and right.

He sees nothing still, glancing down, eyes spotting how the tracks and drops of blood continue on farther.

And he resumes his running, still calling out Loki's name.

Deeper into the woods, his urgency rising, nearly mad with panic.

And then he freezes, skidding to a halt as he sees him, down on his knees in the snow, hands lifted to his lips, green light at his fingers, and he's pulling… pulling the cord loose, tearing it through the holes.

And there's so much blood… so much…

It isn't as though Thor isn't used to the sight. To wounds and injury and blood.

To death.

But his brother… his little brother, who he used to carry around on his shoulders, and who would hold onto him so tightly because he knew Thor would never let him fall… that he would protect him and keep him safe…

There's so much blood, and Thor feels sick.

Wants to look away…

He instead steps closer, cautiously, bending down and dropping to his knees beside him.

"… Loki…" he says softly, and Loki turns more away, putting a hand up as though to silence him.

His head shakes.

And Thor hears the nauseating squelch as Loki pulls the cord through with one, swift tug. Hears the choked down hiss his brother can't help, a shallow gasp and ragged breath.

His hands are shaking, and the cord drops to the ground, thick with red, staining the snow.

Thor feels sick.

Loki's hands clamp over his mouth again, eyes squeezed tight, the tremors working their way down through the rest of him. Blood drips slow between his long, white fingers, white as the snow, contrast as sharp. There are tears dried down his cheeks, fresh ones slipping past closed lids.

He shakes so terribly.

And Thor feels sick.

Long moments pass in silence.

The elder prince thinks to reach out and take Loki into his arms, to hold him tight and safe.

But he is afraid.

He does not want to hurt his brother further, and he does not know how Loki will react. If it will only do him more harm to touch him now.

He never used to think about this. He never used to think about what it was Loki would _want_. Only ever reacted how his own emotions told him he should. And now he is plagued by uncertainty. By doubt. And he _hates_ it. Hates this feeling of helplessness.

Loki is in pain, clear to see. But Thor sees also how he tries to swallow it down, to keep it in check and not _show_.

And he thinks he will only make it worse, if he tries now to comfort his brother.

So he stays himself, and waits.

And eventually, the tremors lessen, Loki stilling. Eventually, he rights himself from his hunched position, his hands falling away from his mouth as he leans back on his bottom against the snow.

Thor has to force himself not to look away from the mangled wreck of Loki's mouth, the puncture wounds from the needle gaping and too wide, still letting too much blood. The scarring will be bad, just as it was before, and abrupt and hot anger fills Thor at the thought.

Loki's hands come up, palms caked with drying blood, wiping across his cheeks, trying to do away the evidence of pain. And he breathes out, slow and harsh as he rests his elbows along his knees.

He's still turned from Thor, and still Thor waits.

He sees Loki swallowing thickly, his throat's muscles working noticeably, up and down along his long and elegant neck.

Nearly a minute of this, before he hears his brother's voice. Or an attempt at it. It croaks out, brittle and cracked from disuse, barely even a whisper.

"… I am sorry." He says, before swallowing again, then clearing his throat, head shaking in frustration. He again covers his mouth, coughing into his fist, clearing his throat once more.

When he speaks again, his voice is still frail, lacking its usual smooth, soothing timbre. But it is clearer now than it was. And he looks at Thor as he speaks.

"I am sorry if you… if you thought me to have gone against my word Thor. You have every reason to suspect of me an attempt to flee, but I assure you, it was not my intention. I only felt that… I only felt I had to remove… that is to say… I had to rid myself of… of…"

He is rambling.

Uncharacteristically inarticulate.

And when his hands come up to wipe at the blood still dripping from his torn lips, Thor sees they are shaking.

Loki looks away.

"… I did not want you to see." He whispers, his voice near lost to the air.

And Thor feels a kind of heavy pressure against his chest, like something pressing down along his ribs.

And now he reaches out.

"Loki…" he says, his hand coming to rest along the smaller gods shoulder.

Loki doesn't move.

"I did not think you had run away brother." Thor goes on.

Loki looks up, gazing at him, rare uncertainty across his delicate features. He looks disbelieving.

Thor smiles weakly, but there is a dull wariness to his eyes.

His hand squeezes Loki's shoulder gently.

"I feared you had been taken." He at last continues. And at this, Thor cannot help the despair etching his face, his expression falling. His strong voice wavers just. "I feared Heimdall had found us, and that Father had sent his men for you. And knowing your weakened state, I…"

He pauses, trying to reign control of his emotions, glancing away a moment. He lifts his hand, wiping the back of it against his blurred vision.

Loki watches him with the same, puzzled expression, brow furrowing heavy.

Thor looks back.

"I swore to protect you brother." He says, more strongly. "And that is what I intend to do."

Finally Loki turns away.

"… I need not your protection Thor." He replies quietly.

Thor shakes his head, determined.

"It is your pride you let speak brother." He says.

Loki scoffs, turning farther, drawing his knees to his chest and resting the side of his face along them.

"Loki…" Thor moves closer. "Remember how you used to tell me it was my arrogance and pride which would one day get me killed? How you warned me against it? You were so wise brother. Well wise beyond your years. Wiser than I have ever been."

Loki says nothing but for the near imperceptible tensing of his frame.

"I beg of you brother…" Thor goes on. "do not let the same blindness befall you which you saw so clearly in me. You are a brave warrior Loki."

And at this, Loki's frame tenses more noticeably, his face pressing harder, hiding against his knees.

"As brave and as fine as any of us. I… I never told you it before Loki. But if not for you, my days and the days of many of Asgard's warriors would have long ago met their end. It was your wisdom and your talents and your bravery which won many a day on the battlefield for us."

"… Don't." Loki chokes out, voice muffled and strained.

Thor swallows.

"Loki…"

"_Don't_!" The younger god snaps, finally turning to Thor. And there are tears in his eyes. He lets them fall freely, face twisted in rage. "Do not… do not flatter me with compliments too late Thor. Do not appeal to me. I know what I am. I… I know. I am a _disgrace_. A blight on the house of Odin, and on the name of his father and his father before him."

He looks away, hiding the way his face twists now in despair.

"I am a monster…" he weeps, not even bothering to cover the heavy falter in his voice. "So foul as to be unwanted by other monsters the s-same. Too wretched even for them…"

Thor's brow creases in agony. And he doesn't think as he reaches up, placing his palm along the crown of his little brothers head.

"Oh, Loki…"

"… So do not… do not tell me I am worthy of the Aesir Thor." Loki goes on, reacting not to the contact. "Do not try to convince me of my bravery and warrior spirit. I… I have none. I have no soul at all. No heart, or courage. No purpose or… or place. No place to belong. No place to find use of me even. I am _wretched_ Thor, and you… you would do best to abandon me. To distance yourself before it is too late. I wreak only destruction. Only tear down…"

"Loki, I will never abandon you." Thor says, his own voice thick with tears. "Brother, I will never leave you."

And Loki scoffs a laugh, bitter and angry.

"… Then you are a fool Thor."

A long moment passes without words, Thor's eyes intent on Loki, refusing to look away.

He frowns.

"… Maybe so." At last he speaks.

And Loki is silent.

"If love be foolery Loki, then I am the greatest of all fools. For I love you dearly brother. And I always shall. No matter what you think yourself to be, I know what you are in your heart. And you are _no_ monster brother. I will _not _abandon you. Not ever."

For a moment, Thor waits, thinking perhaps the younger prince will respond.

But Loki says nothing. Does not even move.

And Thor feels his heart fall, crushed for the agony his little brother suffers.

Gods, he wished there were something he could do… something he could say to make Loki understand… to help him realize…

He doesn't understand how he could have allowed this self-loathing to fester in Loki so long unnoticed. How he could have aided in its very existence.

He thinks he may never be able to make amends for his own cruel ignorance. For his arrogant blindness…

It is suddenly Loki shifts, and for an instant, Thor thinks he is moving to stand, pulling his hand back from his head.

But then his brother abruptly pitches forward, the motion violent as he barely manages to catch himself on his hands before he heaves and wretches, a second later a stream of thick red pouring from his mouth, gathering and pooling against the white snow, catching on Loki's bottom lip and dripping slow. A moment after, he does the same.

Thor is alarmed, eyes wide as he lurches forward, hands shooting out and taking hold of his brothers shoulders, bracing him.

"Loki!" He begins, frantic.

Loki only shoves him away, shaking his head, his other hand coming up and wiping the blood from his mouth.

"It is nothing." He breathes in a haggard voice.

"You vomit blood." Thor protests, strained with concern as he again reaches for the smaller god. "You bleed inside."

"No…" Loki says, again shoving him away. "It is only swallowed blood. From the lacerations along my lips. It makes me ill. But I do not bleed internally."

Thor's brow furrows.

"You are certain?" He asks.

And Loki nods.

Thor relaxes only marginally.

"… Are you able to heal yourself now?" He asks after a moment, eyeing the still bleeding puncture wounds.

Loki smirks, chuckling lightly, the sound mirthless.

"I am afraid I am spent." He answers, again running his hand along his mouth.

Thor does not hesitate then, only nodding as he stands, reaching down and taking Loki under his arms.

"Then come." He says, pulling his brother to his feet. "We will return to where we have camped and tend to your wounds."

And Loki gives no protest now, letting Thor take him. Letting Thor wrap his arm round his shoulders, and hold to his wrist.

Letting Thor support him, and himself to lean against it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

Loki shifts, adjusting his position along his perched upon branch, disturbing not a thing as eyes, sharp and gazing, travel along the expanse of forest floor. Searching.

And there he sees it. The slightest movement in the brush, three hundred yards ahead and forty degrees to his immediate right.

A doe. Young, he can tell. Well camouflaged.

But his eyes see her just the same.

And he is silent as he reaches back, drawing an arrow. Silent still as he places it against the string of his bow, pulling it taught and aiming.

The quiver he made. And the arrows and bow. Carved and crafted to exact measurement and weight and balance. Built to fit _him_.

He is a master marksman. Better with these things than even Thor. Ever has it been a point of pride for him. One of the few.

He remembers his renown through all of Asgard for his incredible speed and accuracy, and he is torn between a smile and bitter frown. For his skill had been respected. But it drew from people only further distrust and critical accusation of cowardice. The same regard for his abilities with his throwing knives.

Only cowards, they would say, would hone to perfection weapons of distance.

But he tries not to think of that now, his eyes narrowing on the animal in his sights.

It has been a fortnight since he and Thor have come here. They had spoken, and come to the decision to stay, if only for a short time, among these woods and mountains. It would be safer for them here, they had concluded, given the lack of human populace and well sheltered surroundings.

For Loki, it was ideal.

The cold bothered him nothing at all.

But he knew for Thor it was not, and that, eventually, they would have to move on from this place, to somewhere in the least warmer.

Thor was of the sun, of gold and light.

He needed these things to thrive.

But for now, they had agreed to stay, having since moved their encampment to a cave formation a mile out from where initially they had landed. A place which provided adequate shelter from the oft violent snow storms and the blowing chill of wind.

Thor still required bundling up each night in thick furs and pelts. And on nights especially cold, Loki had taken to sleeping alongside him, spooned against his back and arms wrapped tight round his torso. As they had done as children when stranded some place of unkind environment.

They had agreed that at all times, one of them should remain behind at the cave while the other went out on a hunt or in search of some other food.

Today was Loki's turn to bring them back something to eat, and as he always did, he'd climbed to the canopy and waited.

This particular deer, he had been tracking for well over an hour now, moving from tree to tree as she had roamed through the thickets and brush of the floor, following her.

And finally he had a clear shot.

His fingers were loose on the bowstring, hand pulled tight and tucked under his chin. Slowly, he breaths in.

"I promise to make it painless darling." He speaks aloud in a whisper. "Your spirit will still be your own, and your body will provide well for others so that they may yet live. I swear your death will not be in vain."

He lets go his breath, the string sliding along the pads of his middle and forefinger, closer to the tips.

Ready to loose…

BANG!

A deafening shot rings out, ricocheting and echoing off the surrounding mountains. Flutters of birds emerging from the tree tops, flying frenzied off into the sky.

The deer flees, hooves heavy before the sound disappears with her into the trees, and Loki pulls back, letting the arrow dip from his fingers, its feathered end slack against the string.

His face twists in annoyance, his attention drawn as he turns sharply, looking through the clearing in the direction of the shot.

_Men_…

Men and their _guns_.

He hears them, maybe a thousand yards out. Arguing bitterly with one another.

"Du idiot! Du skremt den av!"

"Det var din feil! Du fortalte meg å ta bildet!"

"Jeg tror ikke du vil gå glipp av! Jeg trodde du sa kan du skyte!"

Loki rolls his eyes. Of course, they bicker over whose fault it is that they've lost the kill.

The young god chastises himself inwardly for not having before noticed them.

They must have only just reached the area. It would explain his being oblivious to their presence until now.

Likely they used one of their mechanical traveling machines to bring them. Loki is certain they haven't made the trek of foot or horseback.

He looks, and sure enough, he sees the grotesque, red monstrosity some eight hundred meters from where the men now stand.

Typical.

After a moment, annoyance slips to resignation, and he falls back, hitting the trunk behind, sitting against it as he lets his legs dangle off the branch.

He'd been so close to securing their dinner for the night, and then these nitwits had had to interfere.

Now he was going to have to find some other animal, which likely could take all day, or resort to gathering.

He throws a hand across his face, sighing in exasperation.

He truly did _not_ need this.

His hand falls away as he hears the men break through the clearing, and he peers down, seeing them stumbling about, twisting and turning, searching for the doe, faces lined with bewilderment.

They are fat and short, carrying under their arms rifles too powerful for hunting deer with.

"Målløs ass! Jeg hadde plass plukket ut på min vegg der jeg skulle henge hodet hennes!" One of them shouts, giving the other a shove.

"Veggen? Det var MIN shot. Hennes hode ville ha tilhørte på mine!"

Loki feels himself tense in anger.

So they were hunting her for _sport_.

Filthy insects. They did not deserve her then.

The god has half a mind to kill the useless mortals where they stand.

He can feel his fingers twitching with the need, just begging him to pull back the arrow he still holds and let it loose from his bow. He could kill them both with one shot, easily.

… But Thor…

Ah, sentimental Thor…

He would be enraged, Loki knows.

It is something he still does not understand. This love Thor has for these pathetic, ungrateful creatures.

They do nothing but use and horde, letting their greed and fear guide them, never satisfied, always scrambling for power and control. Loki supposes because their existence is so very miniscule and without consequence.

They are utterly meaningless, and so they seek some way to give themselves meaning.

His lip curls.

He hates them entirely.

He does not know what he was thinking when he sought to rule them. Such rule over so weak a race would be hollow as is.

He is about to move on and leave the two mortals to their arguing when he freezes, hearing the sound of cracking branches and snapping brush.

And then his voice…

…No…

"LOKI!" Thor shouts. "LOKI!"

Damn it all to Hel, he must have heard the shot and thought…

"LOKI! WHAT HAS…"

He sees Thor break through, and freeze suddenly before the two men, the both of them also stopped, staring wide eyed and puzzled at the thunder god.

Thor towers over them by a good foot and a half, Mjolnir held tight in his grip, looking every bit the intimidating force he is.

Loki sees the fear and panic come across the men's faces before it manifests in action. And in an instant, they are raising the barrels of their guns, aiming directly at Thor.

Their weapons at this distance will do nothing to him but leave him bruised. But still the sight of him being threatened sets Loki off, his features twisting in rage, a snarl escaping past his lips.

"Som det fuck er du?" One of them shouts.

Thor remains where he is, face hard in anger.

"What have you done with my brother?" He replies hotly.

In an instant, Loki has leapt from the trees, landing with hardly a sound between Thor and the men, rearing up to his full height and reaching out.

The men startle, stumbling back and eyes huge as Loki takes hold the barrels of their guns.

"They have done nothing with me." He says calmly in answer of Thor's question, his fingers curling over the metal, crushing it in until the openings are flattened, and he bends them down, further distorting the shape, rendering the weapons useless.

The fear in their faces increases a hundred fold, and Loki tears the guns from their hands, tossing them violently aside.

"You dare threaten a son of Odin?" He spits, voice rising as he takes a step closer, and the men scramble backwards, tripping over themselves and falling clumsily to the ground, panicked gasps escaping their throats.

Loki does not falter, advancing on them and reaching down, taking hold of them by the collars of their shirts and lifting them bodily into the air, holding them up.

"Pathetic, human _trash_!" He hisses.

"Loki!" Thor finally comes back to himself, reaching out, placing his hand along his brothers shoulder, trying to calm him.

He sees the overwhelming anger in the younger god.

Is familiar with it.

Many times before has he encountered it. Seen others at its receiving end. Been _himself _the target.

Never has it ended well for those Loki's anger is directed upon.

"Brother, calm yourself." He tries, softening his voice.

Loki does not turn to look at him. Does not let the men down as they hang, whimpering and terrified from his hands.

"They dared threaten you." He says simply, as though that should be explanation, and excuse enough for his actions now.

"But they are no threat Loki." Thor replies. "Please, let them down."

"_Why_?" Loki bites back, eyes still blazing, _glowing_ green now as magic runs through him. "Why should I show them mercy?"

"Because…" Thor says softly. "they are no _threat_ brother. You only endanger our position if you bring harm upon them. They will tell others of us."

Loki's face hardens.

"They will tell others anyhow."

"… Maybe." Thor answers. "But they will hunt us if we kill any of their kind."

"I would like to see them attempt it." Loki snarls.

"Brother…"

And finally Loki growls in frustration, letting the men drop unkindly to the hard packed snow.

He turns, avoiding Thor's gaze as he brushes past the elder god, running a hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. His hands are shaking. Thor sees. And he realizes then how close his brother was to killing these men.

He breathes out in cautious relief, swallowing as he watches Loki a long moment, beginning to pace back and forth, his agitation clear, before turning back to the men.

By now, they have gotten again to their feet, and they are watching the two gods with astonished horror, themselves trembling. One of them, Thor notes with some amusement, has wet themselves.

His amusement does not last long though as the other reaches behind himself and suddenly produces a six inch, serrated blade, wielding it clumsily, slashing it through the air at them.

Loki sees the movement right away, and again he advances towards them, edged hard and threatening.

Thor reaches out, grasping tight to him arm, halting him in his tracks.

"No Loki…" he commands, and Loki turns, glaring up at him in disbelief.

"They threaten us both now Thor." He says, trying to pull his arm free.

But Thor holds fast, not letting go, ignoring his brother as he addresses the men.

"We mean you no harm friends." He tries gently.

Loki scoffs, rolling his eyes.

The men stare, not answering.

"We only pass through these woods on our way home. To a town a short distance outside the base of these mountains."

"Du er ført skyld over på privat eiendom!" One of them snaps dumbly. "Dette er et privat spill reservere!"

Thor's brow furrows in confusion. He doesn't understand, and now he looks to Loki for answers.

He knows his brother has long been fluent in _all_ the many tongues of Midgardian men. It was a task Loki had set for himself in his greater youth, learning in under a day every language and every variation in dialect the humans had ever created. Even those languages lost to man and long since thought dead by them.

He remembers how Loki had laughed when asked about it, saying he had merely been bored, and thought it a sufficient way in which to occupy his time until something more challenging could catch his interest

"What does he say brother?" He asks.

Loki's mouth is a hard set line, and for a long moment, he does not reply, his eyes fixed hard and cold on the man.

Until finally he answers, voice rigid with barely suppressed rage.

"… He says these lands are privately owned, and that we trespass where we are not allowed."

Thor's face lines in only further confusion, looking back to the man.

"… We only pass through." He tries again to explain. "We are not intending to stay."

"Vi kan har du anmeldt, du to!" He goes on as though he hasn't heard Thor.

But both Thor and Loki _know_ he has, and that he understands. They speak the all-tongue. Their words come out sounding as the men's own language.

"Vi vil! For overfall og ført skyld over!"

"What says he now brother?" Thor again asks Loki.

But Loki can no longer keep his anger in check, and he rips away from Thor, moving swift forward. And he is upon the men in an instant, once more reaching out.

He takes hold of the blade, the flimsy Midgardian steel crumpling under his grip as he crushes it in on itself, a flash of green energy surging from his fingers and through it.

In moments, the blades hilt glows red hot, and the man screams, releasing his grip, his palm already blistering and peeling with burns.

Loki tosses the ruined knife away. A moment after and he again has taken hold of the both of them, again lifting them up, higher now so that they are held above his head, holding them as though they weight nothing at all.

"You announce ownership over this land?" He spits heatedly. "You _dare_ lay claim to it? Land which for millennia before your pathetic, inconsequential existence has resided, and which will for millennia more after you are snuffed from reality and forgotten to the winds of time? You dare tell us, proclaim to _us_, who walked this very ground at the _inception_ of its current state, that we are not _allowed_ upon it? That we may not have passage? You threaten arrest and punishment to us for violation of _your_ rules? You sniveling, weak, _disgusting_ parasites, who spoil the very soil which allows you your meaningless lives! You are without right to dictate to us. To tell us anything at all! And without right to any place, any territory of Midgard, or any realm other than here. You are not worthy of the dirt you _soil_ with your presence."

"Loki, stop." Thor finally interjects, again reaching out to touch his brother's shoulder, his anxiety from before returning worse.

This time, Loki shrugs him off.

"I will kill them Thor." He says flatly. "They deserve death for the disrespect they have shown to us."

"Loki, NO!" Thor shouts now, panic gripping his heart. "Let them go brother. Please."

"I will make it quick, if that will satisfy you." Loki goes on, as though he hasn't heard Thor at all. He turns, looking to the elder prince.

His expression if frighteningly calm.

Like he feels nothing at all.

And Thor feels sick.

"I can rupture their organs. Death will happen in but an instant. They will feel hardly a thing."

The men begin crying, whimpering loudly.

"Loki, I WILL NOT let you do this!" Thor's voice is again raised, and now he steps forward, grasping one of Loki's wrists, hard enough to nearly crush the bone. "Release them now or I will _make_ you!"

And suddenly, emotion flutters across the smaller gods features, brow creasing in confusion, eyes bright with it.

"What?" He asks.

"I will make you if you do not voluntarily let them go." Thor repeats, voice even.

The lines across Loki's forehead etch deeper.

"… Thor, they _threaten_ us. Our well being." He repeats, voice matching his puzzlement. "They threaten _you_. An offense punishable by death. By Odin's decree…"

"Loki, let. them. down." Thor says again, grip not loosening. "Do not force me to make you. You are _wrong_ in this. I will not let you murder these men."

In an instant, the confusion is gone.

And in its place, consuming hate. Overwhelming anger.

"Murder?" Loki says.

Thor keeps his gaze, struggling under the heat of that glare.

"_Murder_?"

Loki drops the men, and at once, he's ripped his wrist free of Thor's grasp, stumbling back a step, as though the thunder gods hand had burned him.

"… I would… I would seek to protect you, and you would call it _murder_?" He spits, and his voice is thick with emotion.

"Loki, that is not…"

The trickster gods eyes fill with tears, and he cuts Thor off.

"Would you not do the same?" He asks, voice hitching and strained higher with desperation. "Would you not have slain these men where they stand had their weapons been aimed towards me?"

Thor's brow furrows, mouth pulling into a deep frown.

He says nothing.

"What then of… of the _doe_ they sought to kill? Not in necessity Thor. Not for… for provision. But for sport. For their own _amusement_. Was that not murder? Do they not deserve some form of recompense for so _vile_ an act?"

Still, Thor says nothing.

He knows not what to say.

Not how to answer.

Because he knows Loki is right.

He had been ready to smite them, had been moments away from raising Mjolnir and striking them down when he thought they had done his brother harm.

He wants to say it.

To tell Loki.

He feels the words on the tip of his tongue, waiting to spring forth.

But he hesitates, because he knows how easily, how quickly Loki will undo these men should he validate it to him. Should he give him what Loki will deem consent.

There will be nothing he can do.

Loki need only lay his hands on them to turn their insides to liquid.

He is afraid.

And he hesitates.

And that moment is long enough for Loki to break.

His face crumples, and he turns from Thor, hands coming up, long, white fingers burying, ripping at black, black locks. Black as raven's wings. Skin white as snow.

A low pitched keen escapes Loki's throat, and Thor hears him choke…

"But I am a monster." He sobs, voice fissured and cracked. "I am a monster, and all things of me are wrong."

And Thor can do nothing, cannot move, frozen and stiff as he watches, helpless, his little brother run away.

Run in panic, in hopeless despair through the trees, vanishing in an instant in a flash of green and smoke and blinding, white light.

/

**AN: Loki was shown with a bow and arrow in Ultimate Thor, and it strikes me as the kind of weapon he would be an expert with. I think he's probably good with all long range weapons. So, yeah, that's where that comes from.**

**And, you know, Loki's a scholar and a genius among gods, so it makes sense to me that he'd be able to speak every language created by man. That it would be a fairly easy task for him to learn all of them, even.**

**I'm intent on writing Thor and Loki as actual gods, so they're going to be shown as powerful as a god should be in my story. **

**Sorry for the delay in this update. My computer died on me and I just got it back, haha. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**Reviews are appreciated!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Thor searches all day for his brother, covering what he is sure is near every square inch of the forest floor, and above, up in the canopy, looking for him there as well.

He calls Loki's name over and over, and as the hours drag on with no success, the sun moving higher in the sky, Thor's voice grows broken and frantic, and he begins retracing his steps, searching over areas he's already been.

At times, he isn't able to help the rush of tears which come to his eyes and blind him momentarily, having to brush them away to see where he is going.

And as the sun finally begins to set, the sky melting from its soft blue to deep purples and pinks, Thor is certain he's frightened Loki off completely. That his brother has teleported himself away from here. Perhaps even off the realm. And a sickening despair grips him with the thought he may have lost Loki forever. That he may never see him again. For he knows not how to find Loki now. He knows not how to follow him, if Loki does not wish to be followed. Or to be found.

He curses himself for his stupidity.

Those men…

Those ridiculous, cowardly men. Thor had turned to them after Loki had vanished into thin air, face grim and lined hard, and he had told them to run. To run away as quickly as their feet would carry them, before he changed his mind and crushed their skulls to fine dust.

They hadn't needed to be told twice, and yet still, Thor found himself almost regretting letting them go now. For it was their interference which had led to his having lost his little brother. Which led to his current state of overwhelming anxiety and dread.

Perhaps Loki had been right. Perhaps the mortals had deserved death for their daring to raise arms against them.

Thor didn't know. He didn't know anything.

And if Loki was right, he feared… oh, he _feared_ he would never again have the opportunity to tell him so.

To tell him anything ever again.

And he near keened with sorrow at the thought.

Loki was so very fragile. Thor _knew_ this. He _knew_. And yet for some misguided sense of duty towards the protection of a people who, in all truth, he knew little of, he'd allowed himself to threaten his brother, and swear to take up arms against him. To express loathing and distain towards what had only been Loki's attempts to protect _him_.

Thor was not delusional.

He was not in denial with regards to his brother.

Loki had grown violent, and unstable. He was not as he had been when they were children. So very gentle. Soft of word and action.

He had not been that way for many a century past.

Now so quick to anger, and filled at times with such deadening hate. There had been bloodlust in Loki's eyes when he had had hold of those men. Thor had seen it. He had _wanted_ to smite them. _Desired_ it, even.

He still held such disregard, such contempt for beings weaker than they. And it was something in Loki Thor could still not understand. Something in his brother which even he _despised_. Which made him recoil and ill to his stomach at the thought there could be such horrific venom in the boy he had grown up with. Who once had laughed so freely and true. A _kind_ laughter. And whose eyes had once shown with such light and purity of heart.

Those qualities seemed now extinguished in him.

But Thor was neither blind to the things which had made Loki this way. To his own contributions to Loki's precarious and volatile state.

Loki was dangerous. And he needed help. He needed guidance. Those were things he was owed. Things he deserved. And it was to _Loki_ Thor was duty bound. He should have _remembered_ that. Before the humans, his allegiance was to his brother, to his family, above all else.

And in all his foolery, for Loki shielding him, for displaying his loyalty and doing for Thor what only should have been expected, what he _himself_ would have done, he had chastised and threatened the younger god, and made him feel… made him think…

Thor shakes his head, growling in frustration.

It was never any wonder then why Loki had turned out as he had.

Even now, in trying to do what he believed in his heart right, he was met with rejection and disapproval.

And Thor only wants now to find him, and to hold him tight, and say to him again and again that he is sorry. That he is so very sorry.

But he cannot find Loki. He cannot find him.

And he knows it is his fault.

Those men, they will have told others of he and his brother by now. And there will be more of them.

Thor knows if he cannot find Loki, he will be forced to abandon this place without him.

The thought alone makes him feel nauseous.

The thought of Loki still being here when more men come, hunting for him…

The thunder god feels his teeth clench.

No…

He will not abandon Loki.

He will not leave this place until he is _certain _Loki no longer resides.

He doesn't care how many men there are, what weapons they bring.

He will not leave until he is sure.

/

By the time he reaches the cave again, the sun has dipped fully beneath the horizon, and darkness envelops his surroundings, the air more frigid with cold.

He is exhausted from searching, and yet he knows he will not be able to sleep, his mind consumed with thoughts of his brother, out there and alone.

The way the wind had begun to kick up, he knows there will be a storm tonight, and his worry increases tenfold. He knows the cold does not really bother Loki, but still…

The temperature is dropping, and he will be forced to build a fire for himself. He can only hope it will not attract the attention of the mortals.

The cave is pitch when he enters through the mouth of it, and he advances slowly, counting his paces towards where he and Loki have set up the beds and supplies.

He is nearly there when he hears a scuffing noise some feet ahead, like a boot scraping stone, and immediately he reacts, dropping to a crouch and taking up his hammer, ready to spring forth as he listens, his own breath seeming too loud in his ears.

Whoever is here, they must already be aware of his own presence, and so he sees no reason to hide.

"Who goes there?" He calls, voice booming and strong.

For several seconds, there comes no reply, no sound, and Thor feels his fingers grip tighter the hilt of Mjolnir, frame tensing, ready for a fight.

But then he hears it.

His brothers voice.

Strained and whispered, like he's trying too hard to keep it steady.

"… It is me." He says.

Both relief and confusion flood Thor's senses, and immediately he lowers the hammer, straightening up.

"Loki?" He asks warily, straining in the dark to make out the younger gods figure.

He strains not long, as suddenly there is a small burst of green light, too bright a moment before settling into something dimmer and small. And Thor sees his brother, cupping the little flame in the palm of his hand, holding it there a few, long seconds before letting it go to float in the air, waving a hand to send it off to the nearest corner an instant after.

The light isn't much, but it is enough for Thor to make out Loki's position. The way he's sat up against the caves back wall, knees drawn to his chest and arms around his legs. The way he rests his chin atop his knees, and his eyes shifted away.

He says nothing, and Thor moves closer.

He hadn't even _thought _to check back at the cave. He hadn't thought…

"… Loki." He repeats. "Loki, I did not… I did not know where you had gone. I searched all day for you through the woods. I was…"

Still, Loki won't look at him. And Thor's words halt in his mouth as he comes nearer and sees the younger god draw in on himself, pulling his knees tighter against his chest, turning his face away fully.

"… Do you hate me so much?" He hears Loki say, and now the tears are clear in his voice.

Thor feels his heart drop into his stomach.

"Loki, I…"

"It is fine." Loki cuts him short, finally looking up, and even in the dark, Thor can see the way his eyes shine with tears. "You should." He goes on. "You should hate me. It is natural. It is the order of things."

"Loki, I do _not_ hate you." Thor interjects.

Loki turns away.

"You cannot love a god of lies." He says, as though he hasn't even heard the elder prince. "You cannot love something essentially false."

"I love _you_ Loki." Thor replies.

"No Thor. You delude yourself. You revile me, as you should. As you would any monster_._"

"Loki, _stop this_. Please."

"It is fine Thor." Loki goes on. "It is fine. It is fate for me. I understand now. I accept that. It was incorrect of me, foolish to ever expect anything different. Or to blame you. You were never at fault for my own shortcomings Thor. It was never… never _you_. It was _me_. _My_ failure. You hate me and you… you should. You _should _Thor."

Thor shakes his head.

"Loki, no… no. I do _not_. I love you brother. Please, understand. I love you."

"As you loved me this morn, when you fought so vehemently for the lives of those mortals?" Loki spits, anger now seeping into his voice.

"Loki, _yes_." Thor counters quickly. "My love for you will never change. It is only that you _frightened _me brother."

Loki scoffs.

"The mighty Thor, as though there could ever be anything to frighten _you_."

"The thought of losing you frightens me Loki." Thor says, softly now.

Loki's face twists in seeming disgust, shaking his head.

"Why will you not just admit it?" He asks hotly, looking back to the elder god. "Why do you cling to this lie? Why do you make me suffer your proffers of false hope? You must truly hate me Thor, to torture me so."

"Loki, I do NOT!" Thor at last loses his patience, voice rising in frustration.

Loki flinches back at the sudden violence of his reaction, but Thor is not deterred.

"Brother, I love you. I do not know how else to say it, how else to prove the sincerity of my words. I am _trying_. But you refuse to listen. What happened with those men, I am _sorry_ Loki. I am sorry if I made you feel… whatever this pain it is you are feeling. I am sorry for hurting you the way I have, and in my ignorance continue to do. I am sorry for ever making you feel as anything less than me. For ever making you feel anything less of _yourself_. It was not my intent brother, but I have wronged you when you sought only to protect me, and I _am_ sorry. I beg your forgiveness. Please Loki. Do not allow my stupidity to lessen the regard you have for yourself."

Loki stares back at him a long moment, face lined hard in some encompassing, raging emotion. His eyes shine with unshed tears, his frame wound tight and trembling, hands clenching to fists.

"… You think…" his voice is stilted and sharp. "you think I… I hate myself?"

Thor frowns.

"I did not mean to imply…"

"That I think so little of myself. As little as do the rest of you?" Loki cuts him off.

"Loki, that is not…"

"No, I… I hate YOU Thor!" Loki's voice rises suddenly. He is shaking violently.

Thor stops, staring back at the younger god.

He swallows thickly.

"You do not mean that brother." He says after a moment, voice quiet.

"No… I _do_." Loki snaps. "I _hate_ you. I _hate _you Thor. And you hate me. You _hate _me. I _know_ you do. I know it. Only you lie to yourself because… because you cannot bear the burden of your own guilt. Because... Because you… just… No. It matters nothing. I want… I want you to go away. I want you to leave me alone here. Leave me _alone_ Thor. I want…"

"Brother, stop this…"

"I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER!" Loki screams.

He falls back, hitting the wall behind, and Thor feels tears well thick in his eyes as he watches Loki begin to scramble along it, tearing at it with his bare fingers, as though he were looking for escape. He is panicking as he rises to his feet and moves, making it only a step before his legs give way beneath him, and he falls back to the ground, his hands coming up over his head, fingers burying in his hair.

And such a terrible, broken sound comes from him.

An anguished whine unlike any Thor has ever heard in him. The sound of a pain he can never hope to understand. Never hope to fathom.

And he cannot take it.

He cannot…

"Loki…" the thunder god rises to his feet, stepping to him, and Loki curls on himself, fingers digging, tearing into his scalp. "Loki, my brother…"

Thor drops to his knees before him, hesitating not as he reaches out, taking hold the younger prince, pulling his hands from his head, pulling him in.

Loki struggles.

"NO!" Loki cries, pushing against Thor's chest, trying to shove him away. "No, I HATE you! I HATE YOU!"

But Thor holds on. He holds on, and draws Loki to him, wrapping his arms around him.

Holds him still, leaning down and resting his cheek along the crown of Loki's head, even as he fights further.

And he whispers gently…

"It is well Loki. Be still. It is well."

And he feels Loki shake his head, his tears wet and soaking through his tunic.

"… I hate you." He mutters uselessly, his struggles lessening, growing weaker. "I hate you…"

Thor cups softly the back of his head, kneading thick fingers through his hair.

"Be still brother." He only says. "Be calm."

"… hate you…"

"Be calm…"

Until, eventually, Loki is.

Until Thor feels him grow slack against him, the hard coiled tension going out of his thin frame, the only thing left the violent shudders as Loki sobs into his chest.

For so long he sobs, and no words escape him.

For so long, until eventually, that too ceases, and Loki only lies with his face buried against the elder god, hands brought up and curled into his tunic, his trembling something almost imperceptible now.

But he makes no attempt to shift away, and Thor keeps his arms around him still, face still rested along his crown, hand still cupped along the back of his head, supporting softly.

For so long, they both remain as that.

Both still and silent.

It seems hours.

And when Thor finally speaks, he is sure to keep his voice quiet. To keep it low.

"We will need to leave." He says.

For long seconds, there comes no reply.

Briefly, Thor thinks Loki has fallen asleep.

But then he hears his muffled reply, his voice dry and cracked…

"… I know." Is all he says.

Thor pauses.

"… In the morn?" He asks.

Loki nods, and Thor feels his fingers grip harder.

"… Where will we go?"

Silence a long time.

"… Where you decide." Loki answers.

And Thor only nods, arms curling tighter round his little brother as they listen to the sound of the wind, whipping against the snow, and howling against the dark.

/

**AN: Thank you to everyone for all the lovely reviews last chapter! I appreciate them more than you know, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

They stay on Midgard.

And after what had been some discussion and consideration that following morning, it was Paris, France they both had agreed upon.

Loki had left it to Thor to ultimately decide, though he had done his best too to convince the elder god of the location, telling him that of all of Midgard's cities, it was one of the more beautiful, rich with culture and an array of the realms best cuisine. That last part had seemed to synch it for Thor.

And so Paris it was.

And for the past six months, Paris it had remained.

And for the first time in a long time, Loki had found himself… content.

It had taken a long time.

The first few months had been an exercise in paranoia, for the both of them. Loki for reasons beyond what he had yet to share with Thor.

The thunder god worried over Odin, and Heimdall, having constantly been on the lookout for Asgardian parties and scouts, seemingly terrified they would come for Loki and drag him back to the realm eternal.

Loki had assured him he needn't have worried so. That since he had regained his strength, and the full power of his magic, he had been shielding them from the gatekeepers gaze.

Heimdall could not see them.

It was not he, nor the All-Father he feared.

The power of Thanos was an unknown quantity to him. He did not know how far the titans own gaze reached. Whether he had his own scouts roaming the realm in search of him.

For a long time, he had been unable to relax for it.

It hadn't been a question of if. Only _when_.

Thoughts and plans and courses of action had constantly run through his mind, what he would do when the time came, how he could possibly defend.

His own power was great, he knew.

But Thanos' was greater, by far.

The only way to beat him was to outsmart him.

That, Loki could do.

But his disadvantage was in not knowing.

He could only react.

And though he told himself it was something other, and he would lie to Thor when he would notice the younger gods melancholy, tell him everything was fine, smiling just to convince him, Loki knew inside how afraid he really was.

Yet as the months drew on, and he and Thor settled into a comfortable routine, he found his paranoia had lessened, and he had begun to more well notice, and enjoy the things this world had to offer.

Frigga had stored into their packs a considerable portion of gold, which Loki had quickly had converted to francs, for convenience purposes, and which they had since been living well off of.

Loki had explained to Thor that currency was something important to the mortals, and it was immensely difficult to traverse through all of their various cultures and societies without it.

Thor had questioned what they would do when the francs then ran out, certain they would be forced to find employment some place, and to earn their keep. Loki had only smiled, and told him to not be ridiculous. He would simply conjure whatever currency they needed when the time came.

Thor had been reluctant, thinking it some form of cheating and deception, uncomfortable with the thought.

Loki had summarily dismissed him on his concerns though, telling him it was either that, or he could seek employment at one of the various shops or diners they frequented.

"_You will look very fine indeed Thor, sporting a little apron across your considerable breadth, offering greetings to the days many patrons_." He had laughed.

Thor had been less than amused, but had finally agreed it was perhaps wiser to let his brother take care of such business, to which Loki had been relieved.

Their life here is well. Strangely… satisfying, Loki thinks.

He would never have considered such a possibility.

He still considers the mortals beneath them, a point which he and Thor continue to argue over at fairly consistent intervals. Loki cannot understand the elder gods admiration of them, truly.

They remain to him petty, selfish, and cowardly creatures. The great majority of them, he knows, would be entirely dismissed in Asgard for just those reasons. Derided and scorned.

Loki tries not to think of the parallels to himself. He is _not_ the same as the humans.

He has seen the way they behave, by and large. Has seen assaults break out in the streets, and the way they all just stand and stare, idle as one of their own is robbed or beaten.

Loki has himself stepped in more than once. The most recent being a week earlier, when he had seen a woman being slapped about the face by what he had assumed to be her companion. Those gathered around had simply glanced as they walked by, quickening their pace, wanting nothing to do with it. While others had actually gawked without shame, their expressions transfixed, some almost giddy with excitement as the woman had cried out and screamed.

Loki had felt ill at the site.

He had ended up breaking the man's arms as he'd pulled him away from the woman, snapping them at the elbows, causing him to scream loudly before Thor, who had been occupied gathering provisions in a nearby market, had emerged and finally pulled him from the scene, dragging him off and scolding him for using unnecessary violence.

"_Brother, you could easily have killed him_." He had said. "_The mortals are much more fragile than we_."

"_As though the cretin would deserve better_." Loki had shot back, agitated, pulling his arm from Thor's grip and pacing off.

"_That is not the point Loki_." Thor had gone on, following him. "_I only show concern_. _You let your temper get the better of you."_

Loki had scoffed angrily, waving a hand.

Thor had sighed, sounding tired.

"_We have built a happy existence for ourselves here brother_." He'd said. "_Would you so easily throw it away by exposing us with your power_?"

Loki had glared a long moment, saying nothing, incensed at the accusation. The trickster had been doing well, he thinks, in not displaying acts of magic. What more did Thor want?

Finally he'd given in though, exhaling loudly in frustration.

"_I would not have killed him." _

Thor hadn't looked convinced, and Loki had stared him pointedly in the face, folding his arms.

"_I would _not _have."_ He'd insisted then, wanting to avoid yet another fight. "_I have sworn an _oath_ to you Thor, not to kill your mortal treasures unless given sufficient cause. So you needn't worry yourself_."

Eventually, Thor had let it go, though reluctantly.

No, Loki still does not understand his love for these creatures.

Though, he has found, they are not _all _entirely bad.

He has even developed what he might call _relationships_ with a very select few.

The young girl who works the front counter at the café he and Thor go to each morning. Thor is particularly fond of some concoction of theirs they call coffee, which, as he understands it, is gotten from some sort of bean of the same title. Loki himself cannot stomach the bitter flavor. He had spit it out the first time Thor had forced him to sample it.

He enjoys another of their creations though. A thing called hot chocolate. And Marie, the girl who works the counter, understands how to prepare it just as he likes it best. Topped with an incredibly sweet sort of cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Whenever Loki approaches the counter, Marie smiles kindly at him and says "_The usual Luke_?" And _Luke_ smiles back, giving a single nod.

He's taken to presenting himself with that name, having realized immediately to use their real titles may present a very real problem. Thor had agreed, and taken to calling himself Donald around others. An atrocious name, Loki had pointed out, and Thor had explained something about it being used by Jane and Dr. Selvig as a ruse for getting him free of SHEILD'S clutches the first and only time they had captured him.

It still is an atrocious name, Loki thinks.

But Loki genuinely _likes_ Marie. She is pretty, by Midgardian standards anyway.

More relevant though, she is intelligent, with a sharp wit and broad humor.

And Loki has seen her display a kindness and compassion he thinks rare among the mortals. It isn't false. It isn't pretense to make the day for her go by with greater ease. She is sincere in her care and concern for others, and treats everyone well.

Even those that do not deserve it…

Loki finds he truly enjoys talking with her. She makes him laugh, which is something very, very few have ever been able to accomplish. He invites her often to come and sit at the table with him and Thor when she is given her "break", as she calls it, and they talk.

During those times, Thor is left sitting with a bewildered expression across his face as the two of them converse for sometimes well over an hour in her native tongue.

Thor has mumbled to himself on more than one occasion on the way back to their flat that he is going to have to learn the language of this place if this keeps up. And Loki laughs, saying he would be more than happy to give him lessons if ever he should become so inclined.

"_French is an incredibly simple language to learn Thor. You should have no trouble with it._" He says.

And Thor grumbles further to himself.

There are other humans whose company Loki does not find entirely distasteful.

On the long, morning walks through the city streets the trickster god had taken to habit, there is a park he likes to stop at, where a group of old men often reside, set up and waiting to play an incredible sort of game the humans have invented called "chess". A game of pure war strategy, played along a checkered board with little figurines. With Kings and Queens and their armies of subjects.

It is a game of moves, of prediction and the ability to see more steps ahead than your rival.

Loki is very, very good at this game.

And he enjoys playing it very much.

The old men do not seem to mind losing to him.

They appeared disbelieving at first when Loki had told them he had never played before, and asked them to explain to him the rules. He supposed because in his first try, he had won, and they had said that was implausible.

Loki had told them he was a quick study, which was true, and he didn't see why it should be implausible at all that one who learned as quickly as he did should be able to win at a game he had never before tried.

That had been the only point of contention between he and these men though, which, Loki had to admit, was a surprise to him. He had been sure they would grow angry at him for embarrassing them, or accuse him of some sort of trickery or cheating, as so often had happened in Asgard whenever he had come out on top in any contested game or sport. He had felt certain the men would tell him to leave and not seek their company again.

But they hadn't.

They had merely accepted his explanation, and offered him another try.

And these men, like Marie, Loki found himself enjoying the company of as well.

He ignored the strange warmth he felt when he realized they too seemed to enjoy _his_.

He did not know what that was.

Only that near each morning, he would return, and be pleased to find the old men waiting and accepting of his presence.

No, Loki supposed, not _all _mortals were entirely bad.

And he found, indeed, they often had impressive judgment in style and design.

Loki had discovered how much he truly loved to "shop", as they said here. Most particularly for clothing.

Thor, not so much. But he tolerated Loki's dragging him about from one boutique to another. And even his forcing the elder god to try on various outfits.

Thor was difficult to sharp for, given his great size. But Loki was persistent.

He could conjure his own clothing, of course. And most often did.

But he found he rather liked the construction of Midgardian wear. It was by far lighter and more easily mobile than his Asgardian armor, which neither he nor Thor could hope to get away with wearing in this environment. Not without attracting unwanted attention.

It was more comfortable too, save for those occasions back in Asgard when he wore only a nightgown before bed.

And he found also that the Midgardian wear fell quite nicely on him. That is was suited to his sort of frame. Tall and thin as he was. He didn't entirely understand it, since most mortals lacked such a shape completely. But it was a shape they apparently admired, as he often saw it celebrated in things called "adds" and "commercials". The mortals had a thing too they called "celebrity", wherein certain individuals among them were more well known and talked about than others.

Certainly, in Asgard and other realms he had been to, members of the royal court were known among all their subjects. It was only practical, of course.

But these humans who were spoken of and so highly regarded, they seemed not to be of royal lineage at all. Rather, Loki had observed, the majority of them were one form or other of _entertainer_. Which seemed absurd. In Asgard, entertainers were considered rather lowly. But here, they were practically worshipped.

Singers, dancers, _magicians_.

Loki had had a good laugh over a "magic" show he and Thor had attended one night. He had nearly jumped up from the audience and on to the stage to give the amateur sorcerer a public humiliation, but Thor had stayed him, pulling him back down to his seat and shaking his head no. Loki had thought it embarrassing, that _this_ was what the humans had deemed magic.

For Thor's sake, he'd kept to his seat.

That hadn't stopped him though from waving his fingers every now and then and causing the performers tricks to _blow up_ in his face through the remainder of the night.

Thor had given him a good talking to when they had returned home that evening.

Loki had only laughed.

One thing though that both he and Thor had grown to thoroughly enjoy were a thing called "movies", and Loki had to admit, the humans were rather inventive in all the ways they had come up with to keep themselves occupied. Though why they should be so bored as to need so many distractions, the trickster god had yet to figure out. He had no idea the constant use of such tiny contraptions as their "smart phones" and "Ipods", whatever such terminology meant. And yet, the mortals always had them, their gazes appearing permanently glued to the bright, little screens. Loki thought it a wonder they didn't crash into one another more often, the way they so rarely looked up.

But movies, he liked.

There were these places called cinemas where the movies were shown. There seemed to be new ones playing each week. And he and Thor would go there, usually on Wednesday's. Loki liked it those days better, as he found far less people crowded the space then. And Thor had obliged him.

There were well conceived movies, and bad.

It had taken he and Thor some time to realize that what was happening on screen was all play acting, similar to the plays they had used to watch as children in the theatre.

It hadn't lessened their enjoyment of them, and Loki had begun to consider the really finely done pieces to be works of art, though few and far between they were, and nothing so well crafted as what he was used to.

Still, enjoyable.

Above all else however, it was the time he and Thor spent together now which Loki, though at first begrudging he was to admit it, enjoyed most of all.

They hadn't spent so much time in each others company since they had been children.

Their flat was small. One room, really, with a kitchenette, a washroom, and a single bedroom. They lived in it together. Thor had been generous enough to let Loki have the bedroom at night, while he slept out in the main area. And so it was almost always they were together.

If not at the apartment, then out.

They would walk everywhere together, do almost everything together. Breakfast and lunch and dinner. Activities like those movies, or musical concerts Loki practically had to drag Thor to. Opera and classical. Loki didn't have much taste for the other stuff. Or they would just lounge in the flat, and sometimes do nothing all day but talk.

One of their most favored pastimes though, as it had been in their youth, were picnics. They would gather together a basket of food and head out to a park, not always the same, where they would sit and eat and watch the humans, engaged in their activities, both alone and with one another.

Thor would often grow philosophical at these times, again trying to convince Loki of the worth of humanity, making a point to draw the younger gods attention to star crossed lovers, or friends and companions, how happy they seemed, laughing and smiling and playing together.

"_You see brother_," Thor would say. "_they are not so bad as all that. They can be quite charming_."

Loki would always nod, and say something about them having some qualities of note.

He never gave more than that.

He would not concede this point.

The majority of mortals he had thusly crossed paths with had done little to change his initial perception of them. There would always be exceptions. But by and large, their manner he found, in the kindest way he could put, disenchanting.

But it mattered not.

Here, both he and Thor felt… he supposed safe.

He knew it would not last. He knew that.

Eventually, Thor would _have_ to return to Asgard, and he…

Well, he did his best not to think of it.

And so he did not.

It was beyond his ability to predict that he and Thor would ever find themselves along the path they did. He had been so certain their relationship would be forever broken as it had come to be. And never had he had any intention of moving to repair it. Of even trying.

Thor had been dead to him.

He had convinced himself of such anyway.

Convinced himself of the justification for the hatred he had felt.

Which, for others, he _still_ felt.

But for Thor, he now realized, the justification had never, really existed.

Thor had been foolish, and stubborn, and had done him ill many a time. As Loki had to _him_.

But for Thor, it had been unintended, and that was something Loki hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge before.

He had needed a direction for the anger which had consumed him, and Thor… Thor had been his easiest, most convenient target.

Loki had apologized for what he had done to him.

He had done so only once.

Three months previous.

And Thor had taken him into his arms and embraced him tightly, crying against his shoulder as he accepted.

And that had been that.

They did not speak of Asgard, or of Odin, or further of what Loki had done.

They both knew. They both accepted what it was. What it meant.

And despite it all, they accepted each other.

Loki had sworn on his honor to not act again as he had.

Thor believed him, even in spite of Loki finding himself yet unable to speak of what Thanos and the Chitauri had done to him, of the way he had broken to their will and done as… done as they commanded.

He thinks perhaps Thor suspects anyway, as he had made clear, should Loki ever wish to speak of those things which had driven him to it to begin with, in the elder god he would have an open ear.

Loki had yet to speak of any of it.

He knew not if he ever would, for the shame he felt burn his insides with the thought of its admittance.

… He knew it made him weak. And though Thor might deny himself thinking the same, Loki could hardly conceive a scenario in which the thunder god could think anything _but_ if ever he discovered what they had done… what Loki had _let _them do… and how he had _begged_…

No true warrior of Asgard would have done so as he did.

He knew that.

These were thoughts he kept to himself still.

Thor did not push him.

And though he still did not call Thor brother, he allowed Thor to call him brother all the same. And for Thor, that was good enough.

Loki did not think he understood quite what that meant. How _much _it did.

He had not said it expressly, but for this, for Thor's acceptance of his choice, it was nearly the first time in the entirety of his long, long life that Loki truly believed it when the elder god said he loved him.

For the first time he _allowed_ himself to believe it could be true.

He felt… _considered_.

And it had left in him a feeling of peace he had never for himself thought possible.

That if someone like Thor… good, honorable, brave Thor, could love and consider the likes of him… maybe then not the whole of him was so entirely bad either…

Loki thinks these things, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he makes his way up the stairs of their buildings foyer, towards their second floor apartment.

Thor is not here.

He is in New Mexico, with the woman, Jane Foster.

Loki had told him to go.

It had not escaped the trickster god these last months, Thor's longing to see her.

She had been on his mind since they had come to Midgard. And yet his duty to Loki had been keeping him in place.

It had eventually grown to the point in which Thor was unable at all to mask his depression over the situation.

Depression was not an emotion well suited on the thunder god, and Loki had at that point had enough.

He'd practically had to beg Thor to go.

Thor had carried on a good while about how he could not, how he would never forgive himself if something were to happen to Loki while he was away.

Loki had rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"_Do you not think I can take care of myself?"_ He had asked accusingly.

Thor had stumbled over his words then, beginning to apologize, trying frantically to explain he hadn't meant such a thing at all, until Loki had mercifully waved him quiet and said, very calmly…

"_I will be _fine _Thor_. _I may not have quite your talent in the field of battle, but I am more than equipped to handle any number of different advisory. And besides which, no one knows we are here. Nothing will happen, I _promise_ you_. Go _and visit your lady friend. I cannot bear your moping another instant_."

It had taken some further prodding, but eventually, Thor had been convinced, and Loki still ached from the way Thor had scooped him up into an embrace and practically squeezed half the life from his body in his gratitude, thanking him over and over profusely.

"_I may bring her here to meet you brother_!" He had proclaimed excitedly just before he had left. "_I am certain you will adore her_!"

Loki had rolled his eyes.

"_But will she feel the same_?" Had been his flat response.

Thor had laughed, thinking he joked.

Loki hadn't bothered telling him he was absolutely serious.

He could only hope that should Thor truly bring her here, his own, off-putting nature would not put her off Thor as well. Loki didn't think he could handle the fallout.

He had never seen the elder prince so well and truly smitten before.

Loki sighs as he reaches the final step before the landing, drawing the doors key from his pocket as he approaches, sliding it into the lock.

He wonders idly for how long Thor will be gone.

It has only been two days thus far.

Stepping through the threshold, closing the door behind him, he takes one step forward into the flat before he realizes something is not right.

Turning, and there is a man standing there, some five feet away, dressed in a black suit and tie. A white, button down shirt.

Pointing a gun right at him.

/

**Reviews are appreciated guys! Thanks so much and I hope you enjoyed!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

The man fires, and Loki vanishes an instant before the bullet reaches him.

And then he is behind the man, before he has time to even register that he's missed, for his mind to perceive what has happened as Loki reaches out for him and snaps his neck.

Loki thinks as the man falls dead to the floor that Thor will not mind so terribly. After all, it was the _mortal_ who attacked him _first_.

He hasn't much time to ponder it though, as around him comes an explosion of sound and movement.

Loki had already known they were there, the dozen men who at once descend into the tiny apartment, crashing through windows and emerging from their quaint hiding places behind furniture and doors.

Loki would sigh in exasperation, if not for the immediacy and ferocity of their attack upon him.

As it is, he dismantles them in waves, meeting them as they come to him.

Some he fells before they ever reach within his personal space, blasts of pure, concentrated energy knocking them flat and out cold. Others he buries his throwing knives through their chests, and he truly hopes Thor won't be too upset.

Those that do reach him, he makes them regret it, crushing their skulls and breaking their spines as they attempt to lay hands on him.

All of them wield guns, and he finds himself agitated at the sting of their bullets when he is unable to avoid them.

It _hurts_ when they hit him, and he is quickly losing hold his temper.

Within half a minute, more than half of them are taken out, either dead or unconscious, and his annoyance makes sure he disposes of the rest of them just as quickly.

They do not run, and Loki knows from it, and from the way they attack, they are well trained and professional.

It matters nothing, as nearly as suddenly as the assault started, it is over, and the trickster god finds himself surrounded by twelve, strewn about and unmoving bodies.

He glances around at them only a moment, making certain none are getting up, before he strides and kneels down beside the man closest to him.

This one is still alive, breathing slowly, and Loki wastes no time beginning to search him, finding within his inner coat pocket an identification badge.

His eyes scan fast over the words.

Agent Lewis… Fourth Level Clearance…

_SHIELD_…

Loki crushes the badge within his palm, standing straight and turning.

He knows then _they _won't be far behind…

As if in reply to his thoughts, the entire south wall of the apartment is abruptly torn clean out

Loki steps back, eyes fixed forward and hard as a mass of enraged and violent green comes crashing through the now gaping hole, releasing a feral scream, loud enough to shift the air and tousle the god's hair about.

His eyes narrow dangerously, and he cannot help the sly smirk which slides over his lips.

Another step back.

"The mindless beast…" he breathes quietly, and the Hulk snorts, taking a step forward, as if to attack.

Immediately Loki vanishes, and the Hulk is left standing, staring into empty space, face dropped in confusion.

It lasts only a moment, before Loki reappears, straddling the emerald giants impossibly broad shoulders, fingers burying in his coarse hair and _pulling _back.

The Hulk roars in pain as his face in forced upward, and Loki grins meanly down at him.

"You don't think me foolish enough to play this as we did last time, do you Banner?" He asks.

Again the Hulk roars, beginning to reach up, massive hands to pull Loki down.

But again the god vanishes before he ever has a chance, only to appear now on the opposite end of the room.

He is standing with his arms folded across his chest, regarding the Hulk with bored eyes.

He waits a beat, then begins speaking again.

"It is hard to imagine a fairly intelligent mind such as yours Banner, intelligent I suppose by the standard of the human mind, which, it must be pointed out, is not very impressive at all, would allow itself to succumb to such blunt, thoughtless emotion."

The Hulk's face twists in rage.

Loki doesn't flinch.

"But the will of man is weak, I have found. And so I suppose it should not come as such a surprise. You shrug responsibility, do you not? Blaming your unchecked rage on an accidental _explosion_." He laughs softly. "Are you really in such denial, that you cannot even accept the manifestation of your anger as your own? You think the beast separate from you Doctor? I have observed how you speak of him as such. As… what is that term you use? The 'other guy'." He shakes his head, again laughing. "No… no, you _are _this thoughtless and violent creature, I am afraid. Its actions, its decisions, its _desires_… those derive from within your own heart Banner. They were there before there ever _was_ any accident. Before there was ever any _Hulk_. You simply find you are unable to accept the monstrosity of yourself. It sickens you too greatly. And yet you yield to it and allow it to control you all the same. That is hypocrisy Doctor. To deny what you are, pretend repulsion at it, but to then relish it in secret."

The Hulk stares blankly at him a long moment, unresponsive save for his labored breaths, arms slack by his sides.

Loki waits.

And then it comes.

A primal, unrestrained roar, and the beast launches himself forward with deceptive speed, hands outreached and ready to grab.

Loki keeps where he is.

Only motioning forward, a subtle gesture with his hand, and at once, the Hulk is stopped dead in his tracks, frozen.

Loki laughs at the look of utter bemusement across his broad and stupid face, and watches a long moment as the beast struggles and strains against the hold on him, muscles rippling and shifting to _work_.

But he will not budge.

Loki tilts his head to the side, studying him, arms again crossing over his chest.

"It will not work." He says after some seconds.

The Hulk continues to fight, seeming not to hear him.

Loki steps forward, closer.

He is smiling.

"You may be strong beast." He says softly. "Stronger than any god, perhaps. But it matters not."

The Hulk at last stills, locking eyes on him as he continues forward, stepping within inches of the enraged creature now.

Loki stops, looking back.

"Physical force has nothing at all to do with magical energy. You may be the strongest creature in all the Nine Realms. It will not help you here. You cannot break free, no matter how valiant your attempts."

The Hulk lets loose a deafening scream, trying again to pull himself from the spot.

Loki only laughs.

"Struggle all you like." He says, stepping closer still. "You are entrapped within a force unyielding to any tangible. You can not punch your way through these chains."

The Hulk grunts, sweat forming across his brow as he fights further.

"It is the same as when you attempted to lift Mjolnir." The god goes on, unfazed. "Of course, you would be too dull to understand, but it was not the physical weight of the hammer that was too much for you. The object is enchanted. Only those worthy of its power may lift it. You, clearly, were not."

He smirks.

Again the Hulk rages.

Loki sighs, motioning forward again with his hand, and abruptly, the beast goes flying back, slamming hard against the back wall, the entirely of the flat shaking from the impact.

Loki advances on him, bending down as he reaches him and fisting his hand through his hair, jerking his head up.

And as hard as he can, he backhands the Hulk across the mouth, a blow he knows would kill any other mortal.

It only causes blood to drip fairly from the Hulk's lips, but Loki knows it hurts, and that is good enough for him.

His face twists in a scowl.

"Where are your companions?" He asks.

He is given his answer when he hears the whir of metal flying through air, and he ducks only barely in time for the familiar shield to just miss him, grinning widely as it instead slams square into the Hulk's face, and again, the beast screams in rage.

Loki turns, grabbing hold the shield as he does, eyes locking expectantly on the Captain.

"Rogers." He greets, nodding in the super soldiers direction, seemingly cordial.

It lasts but a moment, as he tosses the shield back with ten times the force and speed, watching satisfied as it slams edge first into the Captains chest and sends him crashing to the floor.

That will keep him down for a bit, Loki thinks as Rogers gasps for air, and as if on cue, the assassins show, grappling down through the hole the Hulk left in the side of the building, releasing their harnesses and rolling up into immediate offensive position.

The Black Widow acts first, firing her gun, aiming directly for the gods head.

Loki dissolves the bullet in midair, thrusting his hand out towards her, and in an instant, her weapon is melting, scalding hot against her hands as it liquefies.

She yelps in pain, and Loki moves, on her before either of them can act. He lifts her by the neck, face mean as he tosses her hard against Hawkeye, and the two of them go crashing backwards, hitting the floor in a heap.

And then Loki is hit, an immense impact from the side, and he, along with whatever hit him, go crashing into the opposite wall, impressing the plaster inward, hairline cracks spreading and speeding up, causing debris to loose from the ceiling.

Loki takes hold of Stark's encased arms as they struggle for position, rolling about the floor a moment.

He grips down, crushing the alloyed steel, sparks flying. Iron Man has his owns fists occupied, one buried in Loki's hair, pulling, the other grasping along his shirt.

Loki keeps pressing, until his fingers puncture the suit, sinking into it.

He grins.

"You should really consider lightening your armor, Stark." He says lowly. "It does you not well to carry so heavy a burden onto the field of battle."

"Armors fine, Reindeer Games." Tony replies, trying to hurt the trickster as he pulls his hair harder. "Though I've gotta say, you're a bit _underdressed_ for the occasion."

Loki only chuckles.

"You should never trust in weaponry reliant upon an energy source outside yourself." He replies casually.

For a moment, Iron Man says nothing.

"… I don't know what you're talking about Prin…"

He never finishes his sentence as a surge of what feels like thousands of watts of electricity rushes through his suit, burning down to his body.

He screams in pain as his grip releases from Loki, and the trickster god shoves him off, Iron Man dropping to the ground with a loud thud, unmoving.

Loki frowns at him a moment, before kicking out, sending him flying across the room to land in a heap beside the still gasping for breath Captain Rogers.

"I speak of electrical failure, Stark." He says, stepping from the wall and dusting himself off as he circles back closer to the still immobile Hulk. "What you might refer to as a short circuiting of certain of your suits more essential receptors. Your armor weighs more than you can lift without the aid of outside energy. As I was saying, not entirely convenient should that outside energy _fail_ you."

Tony doesn't reply, in too great agony to form words as he struggles to move, finding it nearly impossible. The suits system has been shut down. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know what Loki did.

Only knows it will take in the least five minutes for the backup generator to kick in, and until then, he's helpless.

By now, Clint and Natasha have made it back off the floor, and Steve is recovering, up on his knees, then his feet, grasping his shield tightly.

Loki watches all of them carefully.

They don't move, watching him back.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Clint barks, nodding towards the Hulk, still straining to move.

Loki glances only briefly at the beast before looking back, smirking.

"No devastating injuries, except perhaps to his pride." He answers smoothly. "A spell of immobility, you might call it."

He reaches out, placing his hand along the Hulk's forehead. The Hulk snarls viciously, unable to respond otherwise.

"We can perhaps make his embarrassment deeper still." Loki goes on. "All that brute force, so easily disposed of."

And they watch as abruptly the Hulk's form begins to shrink, down and down, until he's morphed back into Bruce, naked and unconscious on the floor.

Stunned silence settles a moment, nobody moving.

"… Loki, we're taking you in." Natasha says flatly, eyes moving back to him finally. "You can either come along willingly, or we can make this difficult."

Loki laughs.

"Difficult for whom, Agent Ramanov?" He asks, amused.

She doesn't reply.

Loki begins to pace back and forth before them, hands folding behind his back, casual as can be.

"How long have you been watching us?" He asks after a moment, stopping and turning to look at the assembled team.

"That's hardly relevant." Ramanov again.

"Oh, I think it is. It very much is indeed." Loki shoots back, allowing his anger to seep through, if only a little. "We threaten you not."

"You're a national security risk." Captain Rogers says, finally able to speak.

"We threaten you _not_!" Loki spits, voice harder. "You would do well to leave us be."

"Can't do that Loki." Rogers says. "You're a war criminal, and we have orders to bring you in."

Loki's eyes narrow as he stares back, silent a long, few seconds.

"… You know not what you do." He finally says. "You have no chance."

Barton scoffs, arrow drawn and aimed, pulled taught against the bowstring.

"Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that freakshow. We've taken you out before."

Loki's eyes draw to him, and he smiles.

"Hello little hawk." He says quietly, acknowledging him for the first time. "I see you find yourself unable to resist your duty to your master. It must please you then, to at last be back in the same space with me."

"Fuck you!" Clint snaps.

Loki just smiles wider.

He looks back to Natasha, shaking his head.

"You know not how powerful I am." He says, almost pityingly.

"I think we have a pretty good idea." Black Widow replies quickly.

"No," Loki shakes his head. "You do not. As you do not of Thor either. You have seen but a fraction of what both of us are capable."

"Is that why we kicked your ass so hard in New York?" Clint shoots.

"Precisely." Loki answers back, not missing a beat.

It gives the team pause.

"When we battled in New York and elsewhere, I was but a shell of myself. My power had been greatly drained, and did continue to be by forces beyond your comprehension. Nor at that time was I in well mental health."

"Liar…" Clint says.

Loki's eyes go to him.

"You may believe my words false. But I assure you, it will be at your own peril."

He looks back to Natasha, and then to Steve.

"You would do well to leave now, and take your Doctor with you." He gestured to Banner without looking away. "Leave Thor and I alone, and we will do the same for you."

"Keep him distracted Ramanov." Natasha hears the voice of Nick Fury through her ear piece. "I'm almost in position."

She keeps her face flat.

"We have Thor." She says evenly.

Loki's eyes snap to her.

"What?"

"We have him, right now, detained at our base. How do you think we found you?"

The god's eyes narrow, watching her a long moment.

Neither of them look away from the other.

And then Loki says, smoothly…

"You are lying."

"No, I'm not." Natasha says easily.

Loki smiles.

"You are."

And suddenly he takes a step forward, having to suppress the urge to grin as the rest of them take a step back.

"Do you think you can deceive me?" He asks. "I am the _god_ of lies. I am the being from which your very _concept _of deceit was derived. I who _taught_ your people how to lie. Do not think you can best me at the thing for which I am the template. That you can trick the _trickster _god?"

"I did it before." Natasha answers flatly.

Loki explodes into laughter, throwing his head back. And it takes nearly half a minute before he is able to rein his mirth in and again speak.

"You silly little child." He shakes his head in disbelief, looking back to her. "Have not you worked it out yet? You still believe yourself to have fooled me?"

Natasha keeps her face passive, not allowing her apprehension to betray her.

"You sure acted fooled." She answers.

Loki's smile spreads to a grin.

"Then your talents of manipulation are, by your peers, grossly overvalued. And by yourself. Thusly so your intelligence."

She says nothing, staring back.

Loki goes on.

"I would have thought you to work it out by now. Answer me this, Agent Ramanov. What was it to incite Dr. Banner into such a rage aboard your flying fortress?"

Black Widow hesitates.

"… The explosion." She says cautiously.

Loki chuckles.

"Ah, you are more dull than I gave you credit for." He says. "No. It was _you_, silly mortal."

Her lips purse.

"And how do you figure that?"

Loki smiles brightly.

"Was it not you who demanded the good Doctor be made to exit the base after finding out my plans for him? Was it not that which drove him to a defensive, indeed outwardly hostile attitude and position?"

Natasha masks her emotions well. Anyone else would have missed it. But Loki sees the dawning realization in her eyes, and the horror which accompanies it.

He smirks.

"My dear little Agent, I had _wanted _you to know my plan. That indeed _was_ the plan. I knew you feared the beast, and knew also the notion of being trapped with him aboard an isolated aircraft thirty thousand feet above the earth would cause in you a _great_ panic. Banner merely was in need of a push, an instigator to set him in the right mood. An excuse, you might say, to lose control. You were the perfect instigator, Agent Ramanov. The Doctor likes _not_ being faced with the dangers he presents, nor the fear he can and often _does_ cause in others. It makes him… very _angry_." Loki continues grinning. "Oh, but you needn't criticize yourself too badly for it. Rest assured, I am an _expert_ at this game. In ways you could never _hope_ to be. That is what millennia of practiced craft will give to you. And a brain which operates at speeds well beyond the scope of your realms greatest minds. One may only feel a sort of pity for you, I suppose, that you could delude yourself to such an extent as to think you had manipulated a _god_."

Silence settles over the group, staring back at Loki with shocked disbelief.

Natasha, uncharacteristically, wears an equally affected expression.

Loki looks back at her, his own face suddenly an imperceptible mask.

"Agent Ramanov?" Fury's voice crackles in her ear. "Keep the target in position. Repeat, do not engage…"

And then there is a sound, a slice through air.

Clint letting loose his drawn arrow, aimed straight for Loki's temple.

The trickster god snaps it out of the air, his mouth curling in rage, turning his eyes to the archer.

And in one, swift motion, he has turned the arrow around and thrown it back, aimed straight and sharp and powerful.

It sinks clean through Hawkeyes hand, embedded deep, and the assassin howls in agony, dropping his bow and stumbling backwards.

"_Do not engage_…"

Natasha's eyes grow wide, head turning as she watches Clint crumple, grasping his hand tightly with the other, blood profuse from the wound. And her own face twists into a scowl, gaze moving back to Loki.

She doesn't think.

A moment later, and she is launching herself at him, scream tearing from her lips.

"Natasha, NO!" Steve cries out, too late.

She leaps into the air, hands raised above her head, ready to bring them down together across the crown of the god's skull.

She never gets there as Loki moves with her, meeting her halfway, and as she comes down, he drives the butt of his palm upwards, against her diaphragm.

Several of her ribs shatter, and instantly the breath is torn from her lungs as she is thrown backwards across the entire length of the room, only stopping by virtue of the wall she crashes against.

She lands in a broken heap, gasping sharply, and a fine mist of red escapes past her lips as she exhales.

"You son of a…" Steve turns, stepping forward and throwing his shield with all the force he can muster.

Loki bats it away, causing it to skitter across the floor and come to a halt several feet away.

From his other hand, a sphere of green energy erupts, and Rogers is only halfway to him when Loki directs it his way, stopping the Captain dead in his tracks as the blast hits him square in the chest, spreading over him in waves.

Steve cries out, face screwing up in pain as he collapses down, sharp spasms rocketing through his frame for several, violent second before at once he falls limp, no longer moving.

Loki steps to him, reaching down and burying his fingers in the material of the super soldier's suit, lifting him bodily from the ground.

"I _warned_ you fools to leave me and my brother _alone_." He hisses lowly to him. "_Why_ would you not listen?"

Steve is unable to hold his head up, it lolling forward as his lips part, as though trying to speak.

No sound emits.

Loki's face twists in disgust, and he catches Barton trying to rise to his feet, the arrow still planted firmly through his hand.

"… Get…" he starts, but Loki gives him no time to finish as he hurls the Captain right at him, the larger man crashing against the archer, the both of them collapsing to the floor, unmoving.

Loki is about to turn when he feels a pair of powerful arms hook underneath his own and pull him back, flush against another body.

"Enough Loki!" Stark's voice growls out at him from behind, all amusement gone from it. "You fucking bastard, we're taking you in."

Loki pulls, and Tony feels his stomach drop at the strength of the god, remembering what it felt like when Loki had lifted him and thrown him through his own window.

"You will _release_ me!" Loki snarls angrily, struggling as Tony tightens his grip.

"No can do Cinderella." He replies.

An instant later, and he wishes he had.

An enraged scream rips from Loki's throat, and he tears himself free of Iron Man's hold as though it were nothing, turning on Stark in a flash too fast to see.

And suddenly, it is the god who has hold of him, absurdly long fingers and a wide palm crushing down over his face and yanking him forward, pressing his mask in.

Sensors start going off, flashing red, warning of power failure.

Tony doesn't even see the blade which Loki produces, only feels the jolt when he sinks it into the neck of his suit and _tears_.

There is a clatter of metal as Loki drops the weapon.

And then those long fingers have hold inside the sparking gap of the Iron Man suit, and he is ripping the helmet from Tony's head.

And for the first time since last he faced the god, Tony feels well and truly scared.

He can't keep it from his face as a wash of natural light suddenly blinds his eyes, and he's blinking up at Loki, frozen and paralyzed in his grasp.

Loki's hand comes up, grabbing vicious hold of Stark's jaw, squeezing with enough pressure to nearly dislocate. He is frowning deeply, eyes an unnaturally bright and cold green as he stares down at the billionaire. They seem almost to glow, almost translucent in their shade.

Tony can taste blood in his mouth, and without thinking, he looks away.

"Mortal _trash_…" Loki hisses.

Tony doesn't realize anything has changed until he feels the burn of _cold_ against his skin, and his gaze shifts back, wide and terrified as he looks up into the gods face and sees his eyes have changed from startling green to an all over deep, almost _blood_ red, and his skin… his skin is shifting to an array of blues, too many shades to decipher only one. Deep as the winter, almost twinkling like crystals of ice, and lined in strange patterns and scars.

His hands are so _cold_. So _freezing cold_.

And Tony has never felt pain like this, as it travels up his face, into his temples. It feels like a blade slicing through his brain. And he _screams_.

"Why could you not have just left us alone?" Loki says, voice almost pleading, _desperate_.

Tony has never felt more sure he is going to die.

He's going to _die_, oh _god_…

And then, suddenly, he's not.

Suddenly he's on the floor, staring up.

And the encompassing cold and pain is receding. Dissipating.

Loki has dropped him, stumbling backwards, his hand coming up to his neck.

"What is…?" He begins to speak.

But then freezes.

His eyes go wide as saucers.

And Tony watches as he crumples, collapsing to his knees, then to his side.

A scream tears from his throat.

Stark's blood runs cold at the sound.

He has never heard such a sound. Never heard anything so…

And then Loki is still.

Limp.

"Got 'em." He hears Fury through his intercom. "Got the bastard."

Tony pushes himself to his knees, and looks. And looks. And then he sees it.

The metal device, gripped across the expanse of Loki's neck, burrowed tight against the surface of skin, a blue light flashing in and out in time with the gods pulse as he lies unconscious.

Tony knows what it is.

Of course he does.

He designed it himself.

A magic inhibitor.

More accurately, a device which drains magical energy and siphons it off.

He'd developed it over the last, several months, after exhaustive research and study of Loki's attack on Earth, data collected from the energy spikes whenever he'd used his weird voodoo crap, and from the scepter he'd left behind.

… Only, the way Loki had fallen, and the scream he'd let loose…

It wasn't meant to cause actual _pain_.

Only meant to subdue.

But the god had sounded as though he were literally being torn limb from limb. As though his _body_ were being torn in two.

Tony frowns, staring.

He didn't understand that. He didn't understand why Loki had reacted as though in so much pain.

It shouldn't have done that to him…

He hardly noticed as the others begin to pick themselves slowly up off the floor, groaning in agony and their brush with total annihilation.

"Pack 'em up team." Fury's voice again. "I expect him to be wrapped up like an early Christmas gift by the time I arrive."

And then the connection is cut, and Tony thinks…

_Yeah, you got him real good, didn't you Fury_?_ Bet you're real proud, firing the device _I _designed from your safe little perch across the street while the rest of us got handled like little school children._

Staring at the unmoving heap of black hair and white, white skin…

He sees blood red eyes and skin brilliantly blue.

He feels freezing cold.

Sees a god crumpling, brought to his knees.

There had been so much power there.

He can't get the image from his mind.

A god crumpling to his knees…

Something wrong… something _wrong_ about it…

Hears a scream of absolute torment.

And Tony thinks…

He thinks…

_It wasn't _supposed_ to do that_…

Something wrong about seeing so much power brought to his knees…

And Loki's voice, ringing in his ears…

_Why could you not have just left us alone_…?

/

**AN: Yes, I had Loki beat the snot out of the Avengers. Like I said, I'm writing him as a god, because… you know, that's what he is. Plus, I just wanted Loki to beat some ass after getting knocked around so much himself, lol.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and let me know what you think! Thank you to everyone again who read and reviewed last chapter! I appreciate you more than you know!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

"This is where we reside, Lady Jane." Thor smiles warmly, stopping her gently as they reach the apartment building.

Jane looks up, observing the pleasant looking façade. It appears to be an upper middle class complex, she thinks as Thor takes hold of her hand and begins leading her through the lobby doors.

The thought only solidifies once they reach the inside.

"Wow," she breathes quietly. "this is a nice building Thor."

Thor smiles broader.

"It is." He agrees, nodding. "You have my brother to thank for that, since he is the one to have chosen it for us. You will find Loki of impeccable taste."

And now he grins, unable to contain his already apparent excitement.

"I am certain you will adore my brother Lady Jane." He goes on, starting up the front stairs with her, towards the flat. "He is of the greatest wit, and infinitely more charming than myself."

"Then he must be the most charming being in the universe Thor." Jane answers. "Cause you're pretty damn charming."

Thor laughs.

"Indeed!" He says. "Never have I encountered another to equal Loki's charm or charisma. I am certain, if he so wanted, he could ensnarl and seduce any fair maiden he chose to, and they would throw themselves upon him willingly."

Jane raises an eyebrow, staring at the thunder god a long moment.

"_Could_?" She questions finally.

Thor pauses, looking down at her.

"Yes, well…" he begins, and suddenly he sounds somewhat unsure. "Loki has ever been… _different_… from most of my brethren. Always has it been a rare thing to find him in the company of a lady. Indeed, I… I cannot readily recall ever seeing such. He has ever preferred solitude, you understand."

"… Is he gay?" Jane asks bluntly.

Thor's face creases in confusion.

"… I fail to see the relevancy of the question Lady Jane." He says after a moment. "I find myself unsure how to answer. Gayety has never been a thing to come easily to my brother, I am afraid. Happiness is long something which seems to have eluded him, though lately he seems more content than…"

"No, no." Jane shakes her head. "I… I don't mean _that_ kind of gay."

Thor's expression grows only more puzzled.

"What other kind is there?" He asks.

Jane sighs.

"I mean…" she fidgets somewhat nervously. "I mean is he… is he attracted to men?"

Thor's brow furrows, silent a long moment.

"… Do you mean sexually, Lady Jane?"

She nods.

"Yeah."

And quickly now Thor shakes his head.

"No, I…" he pauses, thinking suddenly. "I do not think so."

"You don't think so?" Jane repeats, and again, Thor shakes his head.

"No." He says. "I am fairly certain that is not the case. Although… although I never have asked him." His voice trails off in thought. "Though there are a great many things I have never thought to ask my brother which I should have."

He sounds sad suddenly, reflective.

And then abruptly, he again shakes his head.

"But no. As I said, Loki has ever been different. Has ever preferred solitude. Besides which, I have never seen him gaze upon a man with any lust in his eyes."

Again he pauses.

"… Though I… I have never seen him gaze upon a woman in such a way either."

His hand comes up, grasping at his chin, absently beginning to stroke at his beard.

"Would that be…" Jane starts, hesitant. "would that be considered a bad thing in… in Asgard? If Loki were attracted to men?"

Thor frowns.

"… By some." He admits quietly. "It is not fully rejected. There are many men of that particular persuasion who reside in the Realm Eternal. However, for a Prince…" once more, his voice trails off, and his face falls in an expression of melancholy. "For a Prince, it would not be easily nor readily accepted at all." He at last finishes. "Indeed, I think, would be met with outright hostility."

"… Oh." Jane whispers, worried now.

And she prays suddenly that Loki _isn't _gay, because if he is, she may have just unintentionally made his life a hell of a lot harder. And it would never be hers or anyone else's place to out him.

Damn her and her stupid curiosity.

"But no," her thoughts are disrupted by the sound of Thor's voice. "I do not think this to be so."

She can't help but notice the almost desperate sound of his tone. The need to believe his own words.

"Loki has ever been consumed by his studies. Always has he preferred to lock himself away in his chambers to read books and scrolls and ancient texts over the chance to bed women. It was always a source of ribbing among our peers…"

Once more, his voice trails off, this time tinged with heavy regret.

"You see Lady Jane, in Asgard, it is customary for our men to sit round the banquet table and tells tales of their conquests. It is a sort of competition, to see who among us is able to bed the most fair maidens, and…"

He stops, seeing Jane's face twist in seeming disgust.

"… the…" he stammers, made unsure by her expression. "the, uh… the one to bed the most maidens in one night is… is for that recounting declared the winner."

Jane's expression doesn't change. Only grows more displeased.

Thor swallows, recognizing the anger.

He waits, and finally she says something.

"… And you say Loki isn't into that?" She asks, voice stilted.

Thor shakes his head.

"No, you… you see, as I was saying, it had always been a source of amusement among our peers. The other men would often… would often ask Loki of his conquests, and my brother would… he would have nothing to share. The other men knew, of course, that he would not. He would only sit silently. I knew of his unease at it, as my brother will often avert his gaze if embarrassed, and he always would then. The men would," his brow furrows deeply, mouth pulling into a sever frown at the memories. "they would find this greatly amusing and would… would often rib at my brother and laugh freely at his expense. I had tried often to encourage Loki into at least _taking_ a mate, to stop the taunts, but… but I only ever would find my brother alone in his bed chambers. He was… he was always alone…"

Jane is frowning now, clearly upset.

"… I think I already like your brother better than you Thor." She says quietly.

And without another word, she pushes past him on the stairs, continuing alone up to the apartment.

Thor's frown deepens, face pulling in confusion.

"Lady Jane?" He asks.

She doesn't answer.

He follows urgently after her, up the rest of the way, catching her just as she reaches the landing.

"Jane?" He tries again, but she only continues walking.

"This… this is the one." Thor eventually reaches out and stops her when they reach the correct door.

She stops, still silent.

Again, Thor swallows, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his key.

He pauses as he bends for the lock, straightening again a moment later.

"Jane, are… are you angry with me?"

Jane crosses her arms, exhaling loudly, for a long, few seconds not answering.

And then she sighs in exasperation.

"… _No _Thor." She says, keeping her eyes focused on the door. "I mean, you're from a different _planet_. I should _expect_ your culture to be different. What's acceptable to be different. It's just…"

She waits a moment, face lining in contemplation.

She looks up at him.

"What you've told me about Loki… you said he doesn't have the greatest self-esteem?"

"Aye," Thor nods sadly. "he struggles with his own sense of worthiness. I did not know until… until recently. I did not realize. A result of my own foolish arrogance and selfishness. I should have known, and I struggle now to amend my mistakes."

Jane frowns.

"The way you say they treated Loki up in Asgard, maybe that had something to do with the fact he never tried to get with anyone."

Thor stares at her with questioning, saying nothing.

"I mean," she goes on. "if everyone made Loki feel like total shit, then why the hell would he think any woman would ever be interested in him? Or any man? He probably figured he had no shot, so he just didn't try."

Thor's face is pulled in contemplation and uncertainty, forehead creased in thought.

"… I do not see how it would be possible for my brother to believe such a thing." He says after a moment. "Loki is physically very beautiful, and though he was often derided among the Aesir, his appearance as well as I know was never brought into question, or talked about unfavorably. Quite the opposite. He was renowned for his forms great delicacy and refinement, traits which are indeed rare among our people's men. It was talked of often, how Loki's beauty could rival any woman's. You will see what I mean when you lay eyes upon him. He is a sight to behold."

"Yeah, but Thor, if his self-esteem is as bad as you say it is, it doesn't matter how good looking he is. He won't be able to see that. It's the only thing that makes sense. Either that, or Loki really is attracted to the same sex and was always just too afraid to act on it. Thor, nobody _wants _to be alone all the time. That isn't how people work."

Thor's face slowly shifts, a kind of hurt twisting it as realization and possibility dawns on him.

His gaze casts down.

"Perhaps I should speak to Loki of this." He mutters quietly.

"I think you should Thor." Jane reaches out, placing a comforting hand along his shoulder.

He nods.

"Perhaps later, after we have made our introductions." He says, again bending to place the key in the doors lock. "For now, I wish this to be a merry occasion. I am certain Loki will favor you as greatly as you will him."

Jane smiles tightly.

Thor had told her everything. All that had happened since their return to Asgard, the following bouts of torture, and the subsequent escape. How he and Loki had been living here, in Paris, for the last six months, and had grown infinitely closer in that time.

How Loki no longer wished to rule the planet, how he'd said and done things even which suggested to Thor that perhaps he never _had _wanted to, though Thor said Loki had yet to truly speak of what happened to him after he fell from the Bifrost, what had occurred to change him so and drive him to what he did. Thor hoped some day he would, but he knew better than to force him.

He'd spoken to Jane of how, when they had been younger, Loki had been the most gentle creature he had ever known, and that he hadn't displayed any real acts of violence since they came here. It gave the thunder god hope about his brother, and he had been incredibly eager for Jane to meet him.

"I hope so." She says absently. "He… he sounds like an amazing person."

"The most amazing Lady Jane." Thor smiles, turning the key and reaching for the knob. "He is… in every way exceptional, and I assure, more brilliant than any other being you will ever know."

"He must be a genius." Jane muses softly.

Thor looks at her, smiling.

"A genius? Yes." He says, nodding, smile broadening to a grin. "Though perhaps beyond what you mortals define the term to mean. Beyond what you likely _comprehend _it to mean. Loki has ever been sage beyond his years, and a most incredible problem solver. By leaps and bounds the quickest study I have ever witnessed or known. He is a genius among _gods_."

"Well, now I just feel intimidated…" Jane says nervously, looking down.

Thor laughs.

"Do not be Jane." He says, placing a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. "As I said, my brother is greatly charming, and ever a gentleman. He will make you feel comfortable and confident in yourself. And I know you two will have much to discuss, since you too are of rare intellect. Loki will respect and appreciate that."

Jane smiles shyly, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and nodding.

"Okay." She says, sounding less than certain.

And Thor smiles one last time.

"Let us go then." He nods, at last pushing the door open.

"Loki! Brother, I have brought Lady Jane to…"

He freezes, eyes going wide, a terrible drop down through his stomach as he takes in the wide, gaping hole along what used to be the Southern stretch of their apartments wall. Taking in the overturned, scattered and broken furniture, the piles of papers and debris and _blood_. There is blood _everywhere_.

Vaguely, he registers the sound of Jane gasping behind him in shock.

For a moment, he is paralyzed, unable to move from the spot.

His mouth has gone dry.

And just as suddenly, shock turns to panic, and he lurches forward into the small flat, nearly losing his footing as he goes, hand immediately going and grasping round the hilt of Mjolnir.

"LOKI?" He calls, frantic.

There comes no reply.

Jane swallows thickly.

"Thor, what… what's going on?" She asks warily.

"I do not know Jane." He answers. "I…"

"Thor, good to see you."

The both of them turn, and see sitting not ten feet from them Director Nick Fury, reclined back on what had once been a finely upholstered easy chair, now torn to shreds and ruined.

His one eye turns to Jane.

"And Dr. Foster, a pleasant surprise."

Thor stares mutely, gazing at the man as though he has never seen him before in his life, before finally, he is able to choke out his name.

"… Fury…"

"That's the name." The Director says, suddenly pushing himself from the seat and approaching. "Don't wear it out or I'll make you buy me a new one." He laughs lightly.

The joke is lost on Thor. He does not laugh in return.

He is staring now intently, and it is at once the blankness of his expression turns to suspicion, and then quickly thereafter to anger.

_SHIELD_…

"Where is my brother?" He asks, not bothering to conceal the displeasure in his voice. "Where is _Loki_?"

"Yeah, about that…" Fury begins, halting in his advancement. "You might wanna take a seat big fella."

/

Four Days Previous:

He wakes to pain.

A splitting headache, ratcheting down through the base of his skull, into his spine and shoulders. For a moment, it is so overwhelming, he cannot bear to move, like searing pins through his temples, and his entire body is coiled tense with it.

The pain crescendos and then balances as he adjusts. And then he is hit with nausea, a sickening churning in his stomach as he dares to open his eyes.

The lids come apart slowly, heavy and stale, as though stuck together, needing to be forced, and quickly he regrets it as his eyes are filled and blinded by a too bright light, blaring and white and _hot_.

He feels the intense heat of it on his skin, and instinctively, he turns away from it, curling over onto his side and covering his face with his hands.

And immediately, his eyes snap back open, and consuming panic fills his heart.

_Metal_…

Runes etched deep into its surface, expanded and stretched across the breadth of his mouth and jaw.

No…

No, this cannot…

This cannot be happening…

They could not have found him again. They could…

He sits bolt upright, breathing heavy and hard, his vision bleary and unfocused a long moment as he struggles to take in his surroundings.

Struggles to remember…

He is in…

He is in some sort of glass cage, cylindrical in shape and devoid of anything save but what appears to be some sort of metal table and chair, both bolted to the floor, and… and a bed, a cot, which he is sitting on.

Outside the cage, it is pitch, and he can see nothing beyond.

He shakes his head, his hands coming up, jabbing his fingers into his eyes, trying to rub the blurriness from them.

He feels so weak.

Why does he feel this way?

As though he can barely hold himself upright…

Trying to _remember_…

And suddenly he does, and panic turns to rage.

Those… those ridiculous _mortals_, they… somehow they… they did something to him. Something which…

He looks down at himself, seeing he is dressed in nothing but a thin, white t-shirt and a white pair of loose fitting, cotton pants. His feet are bare, as are his arms.

And he hates himself for feeling so suddenly exposed, and vulnerable.

Again he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

What had they _done_ to him? How had they taken him here?

He could not _remember_.

The panic returns as he tries taking a deep breath and finds no air to enter through his mouth.

It only is made worse when, without his consent, he feels the prick of tears at the backs of his eyes, and his face scowls in response, wiping the backs of his hands furiously against them.

No, _no_, he is _not _afraid. He is _not_ weak.

He will escape this glass prison and smite all who dared lay hands upon him. He will make them rue the day they ever thought to seek him out. The day they ever sought to tangle with a _god_.

He is _not_ weak.

He begins to reach back, fingers finding the clasp of the muzzle, curling and readying to tear it from his person.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He freezes, hearing a voice from within the darkness, filtered through the glass.

A voice he recognizes.

His head snaps up, eyes searching.

And at once, a blinding light appears outside the cage, directed down on a man sitting not five feet from the glass, staring at him with a smirk upon his lips.

Director Fury.

Loki stares back at him, unblinking and still.

Fury continues.

"That thing's amped up with about fifteen thousand volts of electricity." He says casually. "Designed to go off if whoever's wearing the thing so much as fiddles with it. Now," and suddenly he stands, stepping closer. "while I'm pretty damn sure it wouldn't kill you, it sure as hell wouldn't feel too good either. In fact, I'm willin' to bet it might even knock you cold unconscious for another full day, and leave your head feelin' like the Hulk used it for a soccer ball. It's up to you, of course, if you don't mind being electrocuted, but I wouldn't recommend it."

Loki doesn't move, hardly _breathes_ as he keeps his eyes fixed on the Director, hands slack by his sides.

Fury smiles.

"That's smart." He goes on, beginning to pace. "That's real smart. Maybe there's somethin' to that whole cleverness thing the myth's are always going on about with you. Though, one never can tell. After all, it sure was _stupid_, you comin' back to this planet."

He pauses, turning fully towards the trickster god.

"You maybe wanna tell me why it is you did something so _dumb_?"

Loki gives no response.

"Hmm." Fury says. "Well, no surprise there. Last time we dealt with your skinny ass, you weren't too forthcoming with the answers then either. Of course, last time too, we never did get around to questioning you properly. But see, this time, we're more prepared, as you might've gleaned by now. And there you were, all cocky as a mother fucker, making the world's greatest hero's look like a bunch of amateurs. Just goes to show, you should never get too confident."

Finally, Loki moves, looking away from Fury, eyes scanning back over the cell, searching.

"You really should pay attention to what I'm saying _Loki_." The Director shoots, voice harder.

The god looks back to him.

"Because you are in a whole fuckin' _world_ of trouble boy." He goes on. "You know what you are? You're an _international _security threat. You make the worlds worst terrorists look like a bunch of girl scouts tryin' to kill us with cookie sales. And that makes _you_ public enemy number one. In _every _country. Everyone's gunnin' for your head on a silver platter Loki, and if you don't _cooperate_, we might just be willing to give it to them. You catch my drift?"

Loki's expression doesn't shift, his eyes as ever intent upon the man.

"We're going to kill your ass dead Loki if you don't start talking real fast." Fury says, as if to drive his point home. "And I promise you here and now, it's not gonna be any kind of quick death either. We'll drag it out long as we can, and given how resilient you've proven to be, I think that would be a long ass time indeed. Not very pleasant for you."

If Fury's words are having any affect on the god, he doesn't show it, sitting stark still, eyes emotionless.

Anyone with lesser training might have been unnerved by how intensely Loki gazed at them.

Fury only smiles wider.

"Somethin' tells me you're not unfamiliar with torture. Isn't that right Loki?" He goes on, beginning again to pace.

No response.

"You're probably wonderin' how we took you down so fast too, huh? Brought you crashin' to your knees like a damn pile of bricks in a burlap sack." He chuckles, glancing at Loki.

Loki gives nothing.

"See, that little device implanted along that pencil thin neck of yours," Fury gestures towards him. "Mr. Stark designed it. I hit you with it while you were otherwise occupied, trying to put Starks brain in some kind of perma-freeze, or whatever the hell it was you were doin'. Doesn't pay to lose focus, does it Loki?" Again he chuckles. "But see, just in case you were thinkin' you were gonna use those cute little magic tricks of yours to escape, you best think again. Because what that device _does_, Loki, is it drains your energy. More specifically, it drains _magical_ energy. Sort of bleeds it off you and stores it away, so you can't even touch it, 'cause it ain't _in _you no more. Get it? Oh, and just in case you're thinkin' of tearin' it out too, just remember that unpleasant shock of pain you felt when I hit you the first time with it. The inhibitor is on a low setting right now, draining your magic gradually. When I hit you with it, it was amped all the way up, bleeding a pretty substantial part of your magic dry in a matter of seconds. I'd say like fifty percent or something. You try to take it off, or fuck with it in any way, its set to default to max, and the way you reacted to it before, somethin' tells me you can't really afford to take another hit like that."

And at last, Fury sees a change in the god's eyes. Sees them shift from indifferent, to something… almost _concerned_.

That makes him smile bigger.

"Course, it also saps you of your super strength. You might notice you feel a little bit woozy? That's because, as of this moment, _trickster god_, you aren't much stronger than a regular man. I imagine that's gotta be hard to adjust to, given what you're normally used to feelin' like. Probably feels like your limbs are being weighted down by lead or somethin'."

Abruptly, Loki stands, striding towards the glass, coming upon it in seconds and slamming his fist against it, eyes locked and furious on the Director.

Fury laughs.

"Go on, get mad." He says. "It won't do you no good."

Loki continues glaring at him, his eyes unnaturally green, seeming to _burn _with hate.

Fury continues unfazed.

"Now here's the deal Loks," he says. "and I want you to listen _real _carefully. That device may be draining you of your magic and strength, but it doesn't seem to have any affect on how much punishment that alien freak body of yours can take. In fact, we tried putting a sedative into you while you were unconscious, you know, just trying to make you a little more pliable for when you eventually woke up. Problem bein', we couldn't get any needles to puncture that skin of yours. Not that we really needed to. You're gonna be plenty pliable now. Point is, we've got some real _nasty _methods of torture, and we're thinkin' we can have plenty of fun with a guy who can take shit which'd kill anyone else right off."

And again, Loki is unable to completely mask the emotions in his eyes. Something flashes, bruised and wary.

"Oh, you aren't _surprised _I would say that, are you Loki?" Fury asks unkindly. "_Torture_, I mean? I'm not a guy who likes to mince words, I'm afraid. Let me just be perfectly clear. We _are_ going to torture you Loki. We're going to make you suffer in ways you never even thought _possible_."

He steps closer to the glass, grinning.

"That is, unless of course, you tell us what we want to know. In which case, we may just put you out of your own misery."

Loki doesn't move. Doesn't look away.

And the smile vanishes from Fury's mouth.

"What the fuck are you anyway?" He spits, amusement gone from his tone. "What the hell was that you were doing to Stark back at that apartment? This ain't what you really are, is it?" He waved a hand forward, indicating Loki's appearance. "What you really look like? Naw, you're… you're some kinda freak under the smooth veneer, huh? Some kinda monster?"

Everything shifts, and for a moment, Loki feels like maybe he's going to pass out, patches of black dancing before his vision.

He feels dizzy, and he's certain he's swaying, about to go down.

He pushes off the glass, stumbling back, away from Fury, turning and nearly tripping over his own feet.

Everything feels so heavy and _weak_.

He doesn't think he can stand any more. He doesn't think…

Again, the world shifts, the ground beneath him, and suddenly he's on the floor, his knees hitting hard against it, his hands coming up, curling into his hair and pulling.

_Freak, monster, _Jotun, _frost giant, _MONSTER…

"_When I am King, I will hunt the frost giants down and slay them all_!"

Fingers grip tighter, and he shakes his head.

No… No… he is not… he _is not_.

Thor said… he _said_…

He _promised_…

"You gonna tell us what we wanna know Loki, or am I gonna have to send someone in there with you?"

Distantly, he hears Fury's voice, but he doesn't register what he's saying.

He just keeps shaking his head.

Fury frowns, watching him a long moment, before finally he turns, signaling towards someone, waiting off in the dark.

Loki is only vaguely aware of the sound of the cell opening, the whooshing noise it makes. Only vaguely aware of the sound of a dozen sets of feet, shuffling in.

Only does he come back to himself when someone touches his shoulder, and he reacts with absolute violence.

He reaches up, grasping hold of the man's wrist, and as he turns, he snaps it, keeping hold and kicking out, planting his foot against the man's chest. There is the sound of ribs cracking before Loki lets him fall, writhing and whimpering on the ground, and the god moves to meet the rest of them.

Systematically, he begins to take them out, downing them each in only seconds, moving around them with seemingly impossible grace and speed. And Fury watches, first in puzzlement, wondering if the device is working as it's supposed to. If Loki hasn't somehow retained his super strength.

But as the fight drags on, it becomes clear that isn't the case, by how the trickster god struggles to move the men, how it takes more than one blow at a time to subdue them.

All it is, the Director realizes, both in anger and admiration, is that Loki is far and away the superior fighter to his men. Infinitely more skilled than some of SHIELD's top trained agents.

It would almost be a thing of beauty to watch, the way he is undoing them through sheer ability alone, no special strength or magic to aide him. Only the beauty of it is tempered by the fact that those are _Fury's_ men, and he isn't at all happy to see them being handled as though they were nothing. It's _embarrassing_, and the Director can feel the vein in his forehead beginning to pop.

Is Asgardian training _really_ that good?

Wasn't Loki supposed to be the weaker younger brother to Thor? The one who wasn't all that good at fighting?

It sure as hell didn't seem that way now.

It's scarcely two minutes which have elapsed before every single agent is down on the floor, either unconscious or dead, Fury doesn't know, the only one left standing Loki, right in the center, breathing heavy and covered in blood, eyes alight with some sort of battle fury unlike anything the Director has ever seen.

Right… so the bastard was still dangerous, even without his voodoo tricks and all that crap.

Fury thinks he should've known better.

He turns, pulling his radio from his belt, bringing it to his lips.

"Send Whittkar in." He says flatly.

Turning back around, and he realizes belatedly the door to Loki's cell has been left open. He hadn't realized it in his transfixed state of before. And now the trickster god is moving right for it, stepping quickly.

Fury steps back, eye going wide in actual shock.

He brings the radio back up, spitting in to it.

"Hurry it the hell up!" He says urgently.

Shock turns to panic, to out right fear as Loki steps through the cell doors threshold, beginning for him. And the Director is about nearly to turn and run when the doors behind him come sliding open, and a large black man steps through, about Loki's height, and twice the width.

"Sir." He says in a deep voice, eyes moving to the rapidly approaching god.

Fury barely has time to sigh a breath of relief as he hurries back, positioning himself behind the man, putting Whittikar between himself and Loki.

"Get him back in his cell!" The Director barks, and Whittikar nods, stepping forward.

Loki does not slow his approach, eyes still locked on Fury.

He spares not a glance at the other man, simply moving to dispose of him to get at the Director.

He realizes he's made a mistake when he grabs Whittkar's arm, twisting to snap it, and nothing happens.

He looks up, eyes narrowing upon the Agent, and he has only a moment to register the reason for his failure to break the man's arm before Whittikar grabs hold of him by the front of his shirt, lifting him bodily off the ground and throwing him back.

Loki goes flying as though he were weightless, crashing back through the cell door, landing splayed and tangled upon the floor.

Whittkar wastes no time moving after him, and Fury has his grin back.

Once the Agent is inside the cell, the Director moves to close the door again, slamming down on the control panel, sealing the two in.

Loki looks up, eyes fixing hard on Whittkar, looking at him warily as, with as much grace as he is able, he picks himself up off the ground, struggling to his feet.

The Agent smiles at him.

"Loki, I'd like you to meet Whittkar." Fury begins, almost cordially.

Loki's eyes do not leave the other man.

"He's a mutant." Fury continues. "I don't know if you've heard about them. They're human beings, just like us, 'cept a special gene, something called the X gene in their systems, grants them special powers. You know what Whittkar's power is?"

He waits, as if actually expecting Loki to answer.

"He's got superhuman strength. I _think_ he may even be stronger than you are when you aren't impaired by that inhibitor. Whittkar here's been known to lift _sixty tons_ in a dead lift. He's _real_ strong."

Still, Loki has his eyes fixed on the Agent, seeming to ignore Fury, but Fury knows he's heard him when Whittikar takes a step forward and the god takes a step back.

"Now, I'm _real_ upset about what you just did Loki." The Director goes on. "If any of my men in there are dead, and from all that blood everywhere, it looks like some of them _may be_, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to make you pay for that. Or rather, Whittikar's gonna make you pay _for _me."

Another step forward from the Agent, and now Loki holds his ground, knowing there's nowhere to go.

Finally his eyes flicker away, back over the cell, looking for some sort of weapon.

If he had his own strength and power, this would be simple.

But he doesn't, and he feels so tired suddenly. _Exhausted_, even, and he knows he's in trouble.

He spots a baton lying beside one of the felled men closest to him, and he doesn't hesitate, lunging forward.

Whittkar swings at him, and Loki just narrowly avoids the blow, ducking under it and falling to his bottom, sliding the few feet, grabbing up the thick plastic stick as he leaps back to his feet, turning to face his attacker.

Whittkar is charging for him, and Loki steps back, swinging the club forward as he does, catching the Agent along the side of his skull with a loud crack.

It does nothing but snap his head to the side, and Loki feels his heart drop.

The next few minutes seem a blur, with Loki dodging and parrying Whittkar's blows, doing everything he can to keep the Agent's hands off of him.

But he can feel his energy draining by the moment, his own movements slowing.

He knows it's only a matter of time, and he flashes back, remembering…

Remembering this same thing, oh gods, this same thing…

Running and avoiding and trying to counter. Growing weaker and more worn every instant, slowing, slowing, slowing, unable to keep them away. Trapped and alone and lost. So many of them. There had been so many, and he couldn't… he couldn't kill all of them. He couldn't stop all of them. Unable to run any longer until… until their hands had found him and… and he couldn't… he couldn't do anything. Couldn't do _anything_ because it had been… it had been him, _him_, the mad Titan, with the strength of death in his hands. Him who had snatched the trickster god out of thin air, pulled him from his own spell and torn him down, held him down and still and subdued as the rest descended, grabbing and holding, tearing and clawing and stripping his armor away, leaving him with nothing, nothing, nothing, naked and broken on the ground as their _hands_… he felt their hands all over, all over him as they had… had…

Whitikar catches him, eventually, slamming him down against the floor as hard as he can, and Loki feels the breath go from him, momentarily freezing him.

And that's all it takes.

The Agent lifts him up as the god struggles to suck in air, trying to force himself to move.

But he can't.

He feels so weak now.

So useless…

Worthless…

Can do nothing as Whittikar forces him into the bolted down chair, pushing his face against the cold steel and holding him there as he cuffs his wrists along a hook protruding the desks surface, manacling his ankles to the chairs legs.

Loki is left there for a long time, the Agents he had earlier felled being taken and removed from the cell.

Hours go by with nothing.

And then Fury returns, with Whittkar, and nine other Agents.

The Director orders Whittkar to break Loki's fingers using a hammer.

He tries.

He tries hard.

Loki's fingers do not break.

The other Agents try other things.

They crack his skull repeatedly with nightsticks, try breaking his arms at the elbows by jamming the clubs against the joints. Slamming the sticks across his face until blood trickles from his nose and lips.

Nothing breaks.

In between, they ask him if he's willing to cooperate yet, bombarding him with countless questions.

Loki gives no reaction.

Eventually they beat him repeatedly, over and over, across all his body. Beat him long and hard enough that any mortal would have long been dead from the same, body and face deformed and unrecognizable, turned to mush.

Loki has only a few opened lacerations.

He still feels it.

The pain is enough to make his eyes well with tears and stream down his face.

And he feels so very tired… so very weak and tired and drained…

But he doesn't scream.

He doesn't scream…

Because it hurts nothing compared to what the mad Titandid to him before.

Nothing they do will _ever _compare with that…

And Loki will not be weak…

He promises he will not…

/

**AN: Whew, that was a long chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you to everyone who left me a review last time, and I hope to hear from all of you again on this one!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

Thor moves, blindingly fast. And before Fury can so much as blink, the thunder god has him in his grip, lifting him into the air like he's nothing, hand buried deep in the material of his suit, the other gripping hard the hilt of Mjolnir.

His face twists in rage as he lifts the hammer, eyes locked witheringly on the Director.

"You FOOL!" He cries, voice booming so loud the entirety of the apartment _shakes_.

Jane flinches, stepping back, a sudden and unwanted drop down through the pit of her stomach.

She has never seen Thor so angry…

"Do you realize what you have _done_?" He continues, voice still loud as the thunder which has started to sound overhead, and Jane looks, hearing and feeling the whipping of wind, violent as it comes through the missing wall.

Rain begins to come down in torrents, thick sheets of it as the sky blackens, flashes of lightening erupting through the dark clouds.

"I detained an international war criminal is what I did Thor." Fury says, not entirely able to keep the slight tremor from his voice. "I don't know why you're actin' so surprised. You _knew _what would happen if you brought him back here and we caught wind of it. It was agreed upon that if you didn't take his ass back to Asgard, we would be allowed to handle the situation. Which is what we're doin'. Handling the situation."

"NO!" Thor says, teeth grinding. "You do not understand little mortal! The device you described to me, it will _kill _Loki."

Fury smirked.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch Thor. We've got it on a low enough setting that he doesn't even feel it. The only affects on him so far have been overall lethargy. But…"

"His magic is not some _separate_ thing from him!" Thor rages, cutting him off.

And at once, he slams Fury down against the floor, knocking the breath from him instantly.

"It is not a separate energy! It IS him. Woven into the very _fabric_ of his _being_. You cannot _learn_ magic. Only hone it. Only develop what is already there. It must be something born in you, something present from the beginning in the energy of you. In Loki, the presence of it has ever been dramatic, ever greater, _far _greater than in any other of our kind. In any of his _own_ kind. It is an inseparable and vital part of his _essence_. A part of his life force. To drain it from my brother is no different than if you were to drain every drop of blood from his body. You are taking the _life _from his body. It will _kill_ him!"

Jane feels sick, ill from the words falling from Thor's mouth, the absolute desperate panic she hears in his voice.

She knows from it he speaks the truth, and she can suddenly only think of the horror which will follow should Loki truly die. Of Thor's fury.

It will be uncontainable, she knows. She can see from the terribleness of it already.

Never has she felt afraid of the thunder god until this moment.

Never until now.

Fury still struggles to catch his breath, staring up at the thunder god, unmoved.

"Like I said," he finally is able to gasp out. "you knew what would happen if he came back and we caught him. What happens to him from here out is fair game."

Thor roars out, thunder rolling loud in the sky as he lifts Mjolnir.

"By Odin's stones, you will TELL me where my brother is, or I shall smite you where you lay!"

"Yeah, you kill me Thor, and we'll see what that does for relations between Earth and Asgard. Better yet, you kill me, and what you think they'll do to Loki, hmm? You don't know where he is, and you've got no way to find him. I promise you, any real harm comes to me, and that bastard child _wanna be_ god won't make it to morning, 'specially if what you say is true about his magic. Oh, he _sure _as hell didn't react too good when we hit him with the inhibitor and it sucked a good half of that _vital _energy outta him in one go. No, I don't think he could take another round of that. What do you think Thor? Think Loki can afford to have the rest of his magic _ripped_ outta him like that?"

Thor's face is all hard lines and fury as he stares down at the Director, hand curled white knuckled round the hilt of his hammer.

He can feel his fingers twitching, wanting more terribly than he thinks he has ever wanted in any battle to bring it down upon his enemies head.

His enemy…

When did Fury become the enemy?

For what _reason_ was he doing this?

And very suddenly, the thunder god has the terrible notion that Loki was _right_, that he was _always_ right about these mortals and their greed and violence and selfishness. Their petty, pathetic need to control everything and everyone…

He feels a sudden hatred he thought himself not capable of. It _burns_ him, this terrible heat inside his blood, almost suffocating, and he wonders for a moment if this was what it was like. If this was how his brother so constantly felt.

"… What do you _want_?" He at last breaths, uncurling his fist from Fury's shirt, letting him fall back against the floor.

The Director smiles up at him, pushing back as Thor stands fully.

"That's better." He says smugly, and it is only by virtue of Jane's hand on his wrist that Thor does not crush his skull in.

Fury pushes himself back to his feet, dusting himself off before folding his hands behind his back, looking pointedly at Thor.

"We want answers." He says plainly. "Information."

"What sort of _information_?" Thor spits.

The Director smirks.

"Nothing that should be a big deal. We want your _brother _to tell us about how it is he travels between Realms, as you lot call it. How we might harness the ability and use it for ourselves. We also want him to tell us what it is he saw out there, after he fell from your Einstein Rosen Bridge, what he knows about the universe, what sort of other races are out there, what they did to him, in case any of them decide to get trigger happy again. We need to take _precautions _Thor, and I'm pretty sure you can understand how we might be feeling at a little bit of a disadvantage right now. Problem is, Loki refuses to talk. He won't tell us shit, and believe me, we've tried various methods to make him."

Thor's frown deepens, and again he can feel himself tensing.

Jane's hand squeezes around his wrist, her other coming up along his shoulder, trying to calm him.

"If you wanna help your brother Thor, you're going to have to help us." Fury goes on, unfazed. "He's a tough little fucker, I'll give him that. Stubborn as hell." He smirks. "Some might call it foolish pride, but you gotta admire that sort of resolve in _any _man, I say. Some of the shit we've put him through already, it woulda' had the hardest mother fuckers singin' like canaries by now. He'll just stare you in the face while you're doing it. Hardly even flinches. Kinda' creepy if you ask me. But if you can get him to cough up some of his secrets, we might be willing to consider giving him full pardon, in which case, long as he doesn't fuck up again and try to take over the planet or whatever else, we'll let him go and let him alone. You and him can go on your merry little way and do whatever the hell it is you please so long as it's not hurting people"

"You cannot travel between Realms as my brother does." Thor says quickly, irritated.

Fury cocks his head to the side.

"… And why the hell not?" He asks after a moment, placing his hands on his hips.

"As I have _told_ you, magic is not an ability learned. It is a specific type of energy, innately present in certain individuals. You only may harness magic if it resides within you from birth. And with each being, what amount of them are comprised of such energy is different. My brother is possessed _greatly_ of it. Based on an individuals talent, different levels of control over that energy can be attained. Loki is _supremely _gifted. The greatest Sorcerer in all of Asgard, thought even to be the greatest in all the Nine Realms.

But even one as gifted as he had to train nigh upon centuries before accomplishing such control. The ability to observe the secret paths, much less split reality upon itself and step through and upon them is something very, very few beings of the Universe are capable. Not even the All-Father himself can do this, with all his great power. It requires vast levels of magical energy and what would be to you incomprehensible amounts of focus and understanding. Even if you possessed within you the energy of fróðleikr, which I assure you you do _not_, it would take a dedication and time which your short years of living would not allow, and a comprehension of the nature and structure of such energies which no mortal possesses the intellect to achieve. Put simply, _little man_, you and your lot are not intelligent enough to do what Loki does. You do not even _begin_ to posses the qualities needed to achieve such a thing. The most _basic _of his abilities would be impossible for you."

Fury stares back at him, clear agitation written across his face.

Jane has her eyes fixed down, still holding onto Thor, her own frame nearly as tense as his.

A long, few moments pass in silence then, air thick.

Until finally, Fury purses his lips, daring to take a step forward.

"Well alright then." He says flatly. "Even if all that crap you say is true, that doesn't stop the little shit from giving us what else we want…"

"You will refrain from continuing to speak of my brother in so derogatory a manner!" Thor booms, cutting him short.

Fury scowls.

"Yeah? And what the hell's gonna stop me?"

Thor hefts his hammer instinctively, and again, Jane has to still him.

"Director…" she finally speaks.

Fury turns his eye to her.

She shakes her head.

"Stop it." She goes on. "Stop calling his brother names. You're just making it worse. Don't you understand? Show a little compassion for Christ's sake!"

"There's no room for compassion in my line of work Dr. Foster." Fury answers quickly.

"Well you better make room." Jane shoots back. "You ever think maybe Loki isn't cooperating with you because you're _hurting _him? Why would he want to give you people anything when you're giving him every reason to _hate_ you?"

"If you forget, Dr. Foster, it was _Loki _who gave us every reason to hate him _first_. And in my experience, the more you hurt a detainee, the more pliant they usually become."

"Well it's obviously not _working_ with Loki." She snaps, finally losing her patience. "It sounds like you need our help as much as we need yours. So why don't you just _cool it_?"

And finally, Fury pauses, regarding her a long moment, before a smug smile spreads at once across his lips, and he gives a single nod.

"Alright," he says, turning back to Thor. "alright. I'm willing to give a little. What do you say Thor? You wanna help your brother out here by helping us?"

Thor's eyes are hard on the Director, silent several seconds before stepping suddenly forward, closing the distance between them, staring down at the man with an unyielding gaze.

"You will _take_ me to my brother." He says lowly, voice thick with warning. "You will not lay another hand upon him. I want the device you have draining his magic from him removed. I may then help you to acquire the information you seek. If any part of my demands are not met, I will consider our dealings broke. Is that understood?"

Fury frowns.

"Don't think I can comply with having the inhibitor removed Thor." He says. "What's to keep Loki from just vanishing if we do that?"

"_Me_." Thor hisses.

Fury looks less than convinced, glaring back a long moment, before finally, he smirks, nodding.

"Alright." He goes on. "But if the basta…"

He pauses, seeing the look of displeasure flash across the thunder gods face.

"… if Loki so much as flips a _light_ using his magic, I'll also consider our deal void. Get it?"

Thor nods stiffly, never taking his eyes from the Director.

/

Thor had spoken to Jane in private, in the bedroom of his and Loki's apartment while Fury had ordered the jet in.

He hadn't intended to follow through with his agreement. His rage had failed to subside, a thing he was barely managing to hold beneath the surface, and he'd told her in a harsh whisper that the moment the device was removed from his brother, he was going to break him out of SHIELD's imprisonment.

"_And woe be unto _any_ who stand in my way_." He'd snapped angrily, eyes flashing an unnatural blue, almost white in their brightness.

Jane had tried her best to discourage him, attempting to talk him down from it.

"_Thor, if you do that, you'll make an enemy of them." She'd tried to reason_.

"_They already have made an enemy of me, and my brother. We were causing _no_ harm_!"

"_I know, but… but Thor, think of the _consequences_. If you do this, you… you _and_ Loki may never be able to come back to Earth again. At least, not in my lifetime. I may never… I may never get to see you again_…"

Her eyes had cast down at the prospect, having to fight against the sting of tears and sudden tightness of her throat.

That had given Thor pause.

He'd thought his plan had been a sound one. One Loki himself would have approved, maybe even been impressed with Thor for thinking up one so clever. What he'd thought was clever, in any event.

He hadn't considered the possibility of never getting to see Jane again, and it had been suddenly he was reminded of Loki in a different way. His brother throughout their many centuries together, advising and cautioning him against acts of foolery and impulsiveness, trying to speak reason and subtlety.

Thor had frowned, recalling how, though Loki had often proven correct in his warnings, Thor had still, again and again, failed to take heed of him, more usually than not dismissing Loki's hesitations and uncertainties as signs of cowardice.

Thor's frown had deepened, recalling how he hadn't shied from sharing those thoughts with Loki when the younger prince had shown reluctance to join.

Yet still, Loki always _had _joined him, no matter the danger. A fact which had more times than Thor liked to admit resulted in Loki's being injured in some way.

It was those times Thor knew his brother was no coward at all.

And yet he never had told Loki so afterwards, and still guilt burns inside his breast for his ignorance and stupidity.

Sometimes he thinks there never will be a way for him to make up to Loki all the ways he has wronged him.

He had thought to simply rescue him would be the best course of action, but Jane's words had halted his sureness, and he had begun then to consider the implications on his brother should he break his agreement with Fury.

These last months, the thunder god failed to recall a time when Loki had been more seemingly content, save for in his youth. He had found a kind of easy comfort here on Midgard which he hadn't known in so very long. If Thor soured relations between himself and the leaders of this Realm, he would destroy his brother's happiness here. They would never leave he nor Loki in peace if they came back again, and Thor knew not where else in the Nine Loki could go now to find the same tranquility.

And so eventually, he had decided to listen to Jane, to for the moment cooperate with SHIELD, vowing to himself however, should they harm another hair on his brother's head, he would smite them all and take Loki from the awful place.

He would take him eventually anyway, no matter whether SHIELD was satisfied with what information they gained or not.

Those had been his thoughts when at last they'd arrived at the flying fortress they kept his brother imprisoned within. He had been willing to control himself, for now.

Upon seeing Loki, that willingness had vanished in but an instant.

His eyes grow wide. Somewhere behind, he hears Jane exhale loudly in a startled breath.

Thor steps towards the glass, reaching out, face lining, creasing heavy in anguish for what his sight shows him.

Loki is slumped over, hair mussed and slick with sweat, face and chest pressed flat against the surface of some metal table, his arms pulled straight and locked in front of him, bound to the surface by thick chains and cuffs.

He is half naked, torso exposed, only a thin pair of ill fitting slacks to cover him.

And all along his bare skin, Thor can see bruising, some faded, others still deep and grotesque, pale skin muddled and discolored by spreading purple and blue and black. Bruising, the thunder god knows, could only have been caused by blows more powerful than anything any normal man could inflict. He thinks guns, and mechanical weaponry. He is certain they have shot Loki point blank.

Worse still, and Thor feels his throat go dry, tears pooled thick in his eyes at the sight, Loki's skin is _burnt_. Large expanses of him covered in swollen and blistered ruin, angry red and black, dark hued at the core, expanding out and tapering off.

And it is now Thor notices the blue tinge to Loki's skin, and he realizes with a drop down through his stomach his brother's true form is slowly revealing itself, whatever spell of glamour he has in place flickering and weak, barely maintained.

Thor has never seen his Jotun form…

Loki, he knows, would never willingly allow it…

But it is revealing itself as his magic is drained from him, and that means SHIELD knows of what he is.

And suddenly the burn marks make too much, horrible sense.

The thunder god can hardly restrain the feral roar he feels trapped in his throat, hands curling to fists at his side.

"Allow me entry!" He shouts instead, voice booming.

There comes some feeble protest from the buffoon working the control panel, and Thor cuts him short.

"I WILL _GO_ TO MY BROTHER!"

The man jumps, and then Fury is nodding in his direction, telling him to do it.

The door slides open with a beep.

Thor steps through, striding towards Loki with urgency, not noticing as Jane follows closely behind, nor the sound of the door closing back shut.

"Loki… brother…" The thunder god chokes as he draws nearer, his heart seizing as Loki fails to respond, numb fear trailing to the tips of his extremities.

He drops to his knees before the table, reaching out.

Jane stands back, watching, barely able to maintain her composure.

Thor takes hold of Loki's limp lying hands, curling round them.

They are cold, and Thor thinks so thin.

He swallows thickly.

"Loki…" he says again, despair filling his voice, hands gripping tighter. "brother, please…"

Long moment pass without response, Thor continuing to plead for his brother to look at him, telling him over and over that he is there, that he has come for him.

Until it is at last, Loki shifts, just barely, and very slowly, his head begins to lift, black hair falling unruly into his face.

He blinks warily, and Thor struggles not to look away, his own sight momentarily blinded by the wash of tears as he stares at his brother.

Loki looks back with red eyes.

So red, features lost in confusion. Uncomprehending.

Thor has never seen him in his Jotun form.

And then Loki's lips part, dry and bloodied and cracked. A brief silence, and his voice comes out a broken whisper…

"… Thor?" Barely audible.

Jane's hands come up over her mouth, stifling a sob as her eyes cast down.

And the tears pooled in Thor's eyes at last fall, slipping down his cheeks as his hands tighten over Loki's, and he nods, smiling weakly.

"Yes brother, it is… it is me." He chokes out, reaching forward suddenly and brushing Loki's thick hair back from his eyes, looking almost transfixed back at their color. How the whole of the white and iris is just a vaguely lighter shade of scarlet than the pupil, the pupil itself flecked with tiny hints of gold.

And Thor thinks suddenly… he thinks suddenly how beautiful those eyes are.

"I am here to take you out of here Loki." He whispers back, voice low.

There is a flicker of something, and the thunder god feels Loki's frame go slack a moment. The blue of his skin grows deeper, dynamic, and at once, there are markings, strange, intricate scars which run in patterns down his forehead and chin, below along his neck and beginning to spread out across his shoulders and chest and stomach, down his arms.

Thor reaches a hand out, pressing it against the younger prince's shoulder to steady him.

"Loki…" he begins shakily.

Loki doesn't respond, head lolling slightly forward, and Thor feels panic bloom in his heart.

His eyes shift, moving to the metallic device implanted along the entire expanse of the side of Loki's neck, flashing green.

Rage explodes inside the thunder god, and he turns, glaring out through the glass of the cell, pinning Director Fury with his gaze.

"Remove the device!" He demands hotly.

Fury regards him a long moment, unmoving.

"You remember our deal?" He asks finally. "He does anything even remotely resembling sorcery, and there _is_ no deal. Got it?"

Thor's face twists in a scowl.

He no longer has any intention of helping these _people_.

He will get Loki out of here. Where they go from there will be decided later. But he must get his brother out of here first.

"He will be too weakened to conjure any spell now." He says stiffly, barely controlling himself. "Remove the device. _Now_."

A long, few seconds pass, Fury glaring back, seeming to contemplate the request, before at last, he nods.

"Alright." He says, grabbing hold some sort of remote control from inside his coat pocket, turning his attention to it.

Thor looks away, back to Loki. He doesn't see the Director signal to his men to be ready in case anything happens.

Jane does.

She moves to Thor, placing a hand on his shoulder, leaning down and whispering into his ear.

"Thor, what are you going to do?"

"I am going to take my brother out of here." He whispers back angrily.

Jane frowns, biting her lip in concern.

"They're expecting it." She says.

"I do not care." The thunder god replies.

And Jane can't blame him.

Loki is… in really bad shape, from what she can tell. She feels ill just looking upon him.

She can only imagine the pain and rage Thor is experiencing.

She wants to ask him what he'll do if he succeeds in escaping, where he and Loki will go…

Where that will leave her…

But she doesn't, only squeezes down on his shoulder, going silent.

"Remove the device Fury!" Thor commands again, hands holding tight against his brother.

Seconds seem to stretch on relentlessly, taking too long.

For a moment, Jane fears Fury is going to go back on his word and not do as he said he would.

But then there is a quiet beep, and the device along Loki's neck goes blank, its light ceasing, an instant after some kind of pressure releasing from it, falling free from where it was implanted with a clatter along the floor.

Loki's only reaction is a quiet gasp and slight widening of his eyes, and then he is limp, unmoving.

Thor does not hesitate.

He stands, reaching down, hand crushing over the restraints along the smaller gods wrists, breaking them apart like paper. And then he is lifting Loki into his arms, hefting him across his shoulders.

He is so light.

"Thor, what in the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Fury shouts, not bothering to cover his rage.

Thor ignores him.

"Jane," he says, lifting his cape. "step beneath and put your arms around my waist. I need you to hold on as tightly as you can and do _not_ let go."

"Thor…?"

"Do not argue Jane!" His voice rises, and Jane knows better than to question further, doing as he says, scurrying beneath his cape, taking hold round his thick waist, pressing herself to his back.

Her eyes close, and she holds her breath, sickening fear crawling down through her belly.

"Thor, we had a fucking _deal_!" Fury is screaming now, voice breaking with the intensity of it. "What the hell are you _doing_?"

But again, the thunder god ignores him, taking hold Mjolnir and lifting it above, aimed towards the ceiling of the cell.

"He's trying to escape with the prisoner!" Fury cries, stepping forward. "Stop him! For Christ's sake, _stop him_!"

Fury's Agents step forward, moving quick towards the cell.

But it doesn't matter. They aren't near fast enough.

And suddenly Thor's launched into the air, flying towards the roof.

Jane can't help the scream which escapes past her lips, but her arms remain tight, remembering Thor telling her to not let go. Her eyes stay closed.

A moment later, and the world around her explodes in violence, a cacophony of sound overwhelming her ears as Thor crashes through the roof, through the floors of the levels above, speeding at velocity unnatural towards the airships top.

Debris is falling all around them, splitting and breaking and crashing below as they ascend.

There is the sound of gun fire and shouting, bullets bouncing and ricocheting off metal, and screams of shock as they move past other people on the craft.

Jane has no idea what is going on, if anyone is being hurt or killed in all this confusion.

She tries not to think of it.

Tries not to think of what will happen now.

What will happen if they don't make it out alive.

Oh God, what if… what if they don't make it? What if…

She realizes all at once they must be thirty thousand feet in the air, and she… she won't be able to _breathe_ out there. She'll suffocate.

Panic takes her heart, but she has scarcely time to register it.

Suddenly there is the sound of rushing wind, so loud she can hear nothing else.

She expects any moment now the whip of freezing cold air against her skin, and the horror of the oxygen disappearing from her lungs.

But as the seconds pass, and she feels Thor turning and maneuvering in dizzying circles, her stomach flipping and protesting savagely, there is only warmth. So much warmth.

She does not feel the constriction of no air. The dread of suffocation.

Only the warmth, and the loudness of rushing wind.

The sensation of her stomach coming up through her throat as there is another sharp turn, and they are falling, falling, falling, so fast. So fucking _fast_.

Jane screams.

She doesn't stop.

And then…

Then…

There is earth beneath her feet.

/

**AN: Thanks again to everyone for all of your lovely reviews! I hope you're continuing to enjoy, and let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

Earth?

She didn't…

She didn't feel them land.

She didn't feel anything but the warmth and the falling and the sound of wind…

They were falling and now…

Her eyes struggle to open, her arms rigid and stiff and tight around something.

And when her mouth opens, a sharp gasp rips from her throat, lids flying open with it, and she _breathes_.

For a moment, she can see nothing but black, and she thinks for one, irrational moment she's gone blind, horror ripping her insides, before she registers the feel of fabric against her cheek, and the shifting and warmth of the body pressed against her.

Her arms go limp, and she falls back, eyes wide, tangling something before breaking free and stumbling away, blinking rapidly against the brightness of the afternoon sun, seeing… seeing…

Thor is standing feet ahead of her, turned away, his hammer dropped at his side.

In his arms, he is holding his brother to him.

Loki does not move, hangs limply.

Jane stares, transfixed, as Thor drops suddenly to his knees, holding his brother tighter, and she nearly starts crying herself as she hears the broken sob which escapes the thunder gods lips, his giant hand coming up and cradling Loki's head to his chest.

"… Loki… Loki…" he weeps desperately, pressing his lips to the younger prince's windblown hair, kissing him gently upon the crown. "oh my brother, I am sorry. I am sorry for leaving you. Oh gods, look what they have _done_ to you… It is my fault. It is all my fault. Please, please forgive me. I did not mean… I did not wish for this Loki. My brother, my little brother, please…"

And now the tears do come to Jane's eyes, streaming fast and thick down her face.

She can hardly bear the pain she hears in Thor's voice, or the fear.

It's too much.

If Loki dies…

She feels sick suddenly.

At once having to turn, dropping to her own knees as she gags, then heaves, an instant later vomit falling from her lips, spilling to the ground.

Thor turns, hearing it, his eyes red and soaked with tears.

He swallows.

"Lady Jane…" he begins worriedly, standing, keeping hold of Loki, held close as he does and beginning towards her.

She waves him off.

"Its fine…" she croaks out. "I'm fine."

"You are unwell." He says, and she shakes her head.

"No, just…" she gasps. "I'm not u-used… I'm not used to that sort of th… thing."

Finally she lifts her head, looking up at him.

"… I thought I was going to die up there." She says flatly.

Thor frowns.

"I would not have let any harm befall you Jane." He says.

"I know. I know, it's just…" Again she swallows, looking away. "I'm not used to it is all. Most people, I mean… any person shouldn't be able to… just n-never mind. I'm okay. I swear. Just a little shaken up."

"Are you certain Lady Jane?" Thor takes a step closer, looking intently at her.

She nods, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth, still feeling queasy.

She glances back.

"How's… how's he?" She nods nervously towards Loki, still passed out cold in Thor's arms, dreading the answer.

Thor's frown deepens, forehead lined in what she can only describe as agony.

"He is very sick." He replies after a moment, voice choked. "We must get him to safety before Fury and his men come. Some place he can recover. It will take long before Loki is able to replenish the energy they stole from him. He will be vulnerable until then, and unwell. Normal circumstances would have his magic heal his injuries, but he has been drained near completely, and they will remain unless we treat them ourselves."

Jane's eyes fall over the younger prince, really looking at him for the first time.

He is much smaller than Thor, she realizes. Tall, from what she can tell, but built much more slightly.

She doesn't know why that surprises her. From Thor's descriptions of the trickster god, she'd known he would be delicately built.

Maybe it's just the way he looks now. So… broken. Lying limp and still.

Still, she thinks, something about him...

His long, thin frame, every part of him tight and sharp and toned. There is not a single ounce of fat to be found anywhere. And his face… his features are so refined as to be almost absurd. Sharp, sharp lines, long, Roman nose, thin, tight lips, ridiculously defined cheekbones and an immensely strong jaw line all give an air of regality she thinks even Thor does not quite possess.

He really _is_ beautiful. Almost bizarrely so. Like it isn't possible for someone to look as he does.

His eyes had been terrifying though. Blood red, through and through. Thor hadn't said anything about that.

Her gaze travels his skin. It is no longer blue, but pale, almost snow white, and the strange markings she'd seen earlier are gone completely.

She frowns, confused.

"What…" she hesitates. "is… his… I mean, um, he looks dif… different…" She finishes stupidly.

Thor nods, as though he has only been waiting for her to notice.

"This is not my brother's true appearance." He says carefully.

Jane blinks.

"You mean… up there was…"

"I have told you Loki is adopted." Thor disrupts her. "He is not true Aesir, though he was raised as one and believed himself to be for most of his life, as did I. He is Jotun. A frost giant. My brother is not… fond of this fact. He hides his true form with a spell of glamour. It is habitual for him to hold the spell, as second nature to him as breathing. He was not even aware of doing so for all the centuries of his life before he discovered the truth of his heritage, and even still, I suspect it is not a thing he must actively think of, which is why even incapacitated as he is, the glamour has moved back into place. In Asgard, before we made our escape, our father, Odin, he allowed Loki that small amount of access to his magic, to spare him further humiliation. The Jotun are not well received there. Most citizens are outwardly hostile towards their kind, due to the two races having warred with one another for many centuries, and if they had seen Loki's true appearance, he would have been met with only greater ridicule and perhaps have even been in danger of physical assault. It was one of the All-Father's only acts of kindness towards my brother in that time. What you saw in Fury's flying fortress was a result of Loki's magic being drained from his body. He could not maintain the spell under such duress."

Jane is staring intently at Loki again, finding herself having a hard time understanding it all.

"He's a… a _giant_?" She asks incredulously, her gaze finally moving back to the thunder god. "But aren't giants supposed to be… you know… _big_? I mean, bigger than what you guys already are, since you're pretty big anyway." She adds awkwardly.

"Aye," Thor nods, eyes casting back down to the younger prince. "but Loki was born a runt. It was why his true Father Laufey, who was King of the frost giants, abandoned him to die in a temple of their people, where Odin then found him and took him in. Loki would have died from exposure that day if not for The All-Father's decision, which was what we can only assume had been Laufey's intention. My brother was thought undesirable and likely to bring shame upon the house of the King for his tiny size."

"Christ, that's… that's awful." Jane breathes quietly.

Thor pauses, nodding, his face falling in an expression of sadness as he continues looking down at his brother.

"He has _ever_ been small though." He finally goes on after a moment, voice soft. "Male Jotun will typically grow to ten feet or greater in height. Loki is considered relatively short and quite slight by even the standards of the Aesir, though he towers over most mortals."

The space between them falls into silence then, Thor's eyes fixed on Loki, Jane's as well.

Neither speaking.

Until at last, the thunder god looks up.

"We should go now." He says.

Jane nods, pushing herself to her feet and dusting herself off.

"Right." She says, turning, beginning to walk.

She makes it only two steps before she halts and turns back around.

"Uh…" she starts nervously. "where exactly _are _we?"

/

He wakes slowly. Difficultly.

His lids feel weighted down at first, and though he thinks to open his eyes, he feels without the energy to do so, and so he keeps them closed.

It takes long moments for his senses to begin returning to him, and gradually, he becomes aware of his back against some distinctly soft surface, sinking slightly against it.

His limbs are tired, heavy and uncooperative, lying stiff and unresponsive, and though he strains to hear some sound, he can hear nothing…

Nothing.

Soundless like… like the black… like the void… frozen and still and nothing…

The weight of nothing keeping him frozen as he falls and falls and falls forever.

Falls into nothing and everything and darkness…

Darkness and he cannot _see_ or _hear_ or _feel _except for the cold and the rush and the blinding bright of stars. So many stars. More than he ever knew. Blinding bright and hot and violent. Too close, too close, too close…

Overwhelming horror.

He is _falling_.

His eyes snap open, and he lurches forward, a terrible gasp escaping his throat, loud and pitched high as his eyes widen.

Another gasp, and he flails madly, his arms and legs caught in… in _something_… some kind of net…

And at once, he feels hands on him. _Powerful_ hands, grasping his shoulders, pushing him down.

"NO!" He shouts, voice brittle and worn, struggling desperately, trying to free himself, to get away. "_NO_!" He cries again, but the hands will not release him.

Jane is standing back, watching the scene with a stricken heart, eyes huge. Loki is wildly fighting, clearly in a panic, lost in fear and confusion.

Her hands come up over her ears, covering them as the god knocks the tin wash pan to the ground, the thing clattering loud, water spilling and soaking the floor.

A shrill cry escapes his throat, thick and wet with despair, and Jane looks away, tears filling her eyes.

She can't look.

Thor struggles to calm the smaller god.

"Loki!" He shouts over the noise of his panic. "Loki, be still, it is… it is alright! It is alright brother! You are safe now, you are safe!"

Loki doesn't seem to hear him, or realize at all where he is, continuing to scream, reaching out and pushing against Thor's chest, trying to shove him off.

"No!" He again shouts, and unmistakably now, his voice is thick with tears. "No, leave me… l-leave me alone! Leave me ALONE!"

And at once, there is a flash of green light, almost blindingly luminous, filling the entirety of the room, and suddenly Thor is throw back, off his chair, crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

Jane stumbles backwards, shocked, unable to help the terrified yelp which escapes past her lips.

"Thor!" She cries, stepping forward, ready to go to him.

But Thor waves her back urgently.

"No Jane!" He turns as he sits up, pinning her with a hard gaze. "Stay where you are!"

She freezes, staring wide eyed at him as he pushes himself to his feet.

Loki is staring at him, his own eyes large, pupils blown, chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.

Thor holds his hands out, approaching slowly.

"Loki, it is only me. It is only Thor." He says cautiously, taking a wary step forward.

Loki gazes at him, his expression lost a moment.

"… Thor?" He finally breathes, voice almost soundless.

Thor nods, taking another step closer.

"Yes brother. It is only me. You are safe now. No one is going to hurt you."

Loki swallows, a semblance of recognition finally lighting in his eyes.

"Thor?" He repeats, and again, the elder prince nods.

"That is right Loki."

Another step closer, and the confusion breaks completely.

A tear slips down Loki's cheek, and he moves forward, nearly falling from the bed as he tries reaching for the thunder god.

Thor rushes to him, catching him before he can, picking him back up, and Loki collapses against him, arms coming up around his neck and hugging him tight, face burying against his shoulder.

Thor hugs him back.

"It is alright Loki. Everything is alright now." He whispers gently.

A long, few moments pass without reply from the younger prince, until finally Thor hears his voice, muffled against him.

"I… I thought you were… I thought…" he pauses, releasing a shuddering breath before abruptly he begins apologizing profusely.

"I am sorry Thor. I am sorry. I thought, I did not realize it was you. I never would have…"

"It is alright Loki." Thor interrupts. "It is alright brother."

"Did I… did I hurt you?" Loki at last looks up at him, searching his face, his own strained with concern.

Thor smiles weakly, shaking his head.

"Nothing I have not dealt with previous." He says. "You needn't worry yourself over it. It was not a powerful blast by your standards."

Again he smiles, but Loki is looking back at him with unconvinced eyes, heavy with doubt. He continues staring at the elder god a long moment before, finally, he looks away again, muttering softly.

"I am sorry."

He had thought Thor was… he had thought he was some form of illusion.

When the Other had had him in his grasp, and Thanos, they had… they had invaded his mind, violated it and tortured him with images of his brother… of… of Thor… dangled the false hope before him over and over of the thunder god having come for him, having come to _save_ him, only to shatter the illusion with pain and cruelty and humiliation.

Over and over, until Loki no longer could trust his own eyes.

Until he could trust no one and nothing…

He had thought for a moment…

He feels Thor's warm palm along his forehead, pushing his hair back, the other holding him behind the neck.

"Loki, _I _am sorry." He says firmly. "It is not you who should be apologizing."

Loki continues with his eyes down, for a moment, saying nothing.

He is staring at his bare torso and arms, gaze moving over the bandages of gauze and tape wrapped round various burns. He can still almost feel the heat of the tools they used against him, pressing glowing hot objects to skin, holding them there for hours in an attempt to blister and cause damage. It hadn't worked, though still, his normally cool temperature had protested angrily against the drastic change in degree, aching viciously without respite, even still.

Eventually they had had to resort to pooling liquefied metals across his back and chest and abdomen before they were able to cause any real damage, and Loki remembers swallowing down the screams which had threatened to burst from his throat, refusing to give them the satisfaction. He had remained entirely mute, and it had only made them angrier.

His brow furrows, mouth pulling down at the corners.

"Why?" He asks absently.

"Because brother…" Thor says, dropping to his knees in front of him so he can look up into his face. "I left you alone, and I should _not_ have. I felt unwell about doing so, and I did so regardless, and you were hurt because of my selfishness."

"Thor," Loki looks up at him finally, shaking his head. "no Thor. I _told_ you to go. Do you not recall? You had nothing to do with this. Fury and his Agents have been watching us for _months_. If it is anyone's place to take the blame, it is mine. I should have realized… It is my _duty _to realize and keep watch for these things. Yet I have grown lax in my state, and for it I… I failed…"

His voice trails off, eyes again lowering.

Thor frowns deeply.

"You did not fail Loki." He says strongly, still gripping the nap of his neck.

He sees the expression of disbelief across his brother's face, and he repeats himself.

"You _did not_." He says again.

"… If it had been you…" Loki begins, and Thor cuts him off.

"It was not brother." He says. "It was _you_."

Loki falls silent.

Thor breathes in, letting it out slow.

"I will not let you blame yourself for this." He continues, softly now. "You were attacked unprovoked. Whatever their reasons, they were in the wrong. They have no right to do as they did to you, or to me."

For a moment, Loki is still.

And then he nods weakly.

"… I told them nothing." He says quietly, voice almost timid as he glances up at the elder god.

Thor sees it in his eyes. That same, searching gaze for approval he had always seen in Loki as a boy, looking to his big brother for reassurance that he had done well, that he had done _good_. _Needing_ to be told because he never knew himself. Never believed himself…

Thor nods, smiling.

"I know Loki. I know you did not." He says. "You are too strong for the lot of them. They erred greatly in judgment for thinking they could engage the likes of you and come out victorious."

And he sees Loki's lips quirk at the sides, if only in the faintest of smiles.

It is as good as a grin in the thunder gods eyes.

He leans forward, resting his forehead to Loki's own, lids closing.

"I was afraid Loki." He whispers. "I was so frightened I would lose you again…"

A long silence.

"… You did not." He hears Loki whisper back, his cold hand coming up and clasping the back of Thor's own neck. "You did not."

"Uh, Thor…?"

Loki's head snaps up, eyes going wide, and already he has a glow of green energy encompassing his hands, ready to attack.

Thor grabs hold of his wrists, shaking his head.

"No Loki!" He says, voice slightly panicked. "It is alright brother. This is Lady Jane. Doctor Jane Foster."

Jane has stumbled back, her own eyes huge with fear, hands held half up in some useless attempt to shield herself.

Loki keeps his eyes locked on her a long moment, cold and hard as ice before he feels Thor tug at his wrists, and they snap back to the elder prince.

"She will not harm us brother." Thor urges softly. "She is with us."

Loki stares at him a moment as though uncomprehending, his brow furrowing in dismay.

"I did not notice her presence here." He chokes out, voice strained and concerned.

"You are tired brother." Thor reassures, understanding. "Much of your strength has been sapped and it will be a long while before you regain yourself completely. You mustn't criticize yourself over it."

Loki's eyes drop, and he says nothing.

"Jane…" Thor turns, beckoning her forward with his hand.

Jane hesitates, eyes still fixed on Loki, wary.

"It is alright Jane. Loki merely was caught off his guard, and it is the way of any Asgardian warrior to ever be on the defensive. He will not hurt you. Come here, I wish for the two of you to finally meet."

A moment longer passes, before finally, she steps forward, unsure at first.

Thor turns back to Loki, grinning.

"It was Jane who wrapped your wounds brother. She was extremely delicate, handling you with great care."

Loki looks up again, just as Jane comes to a halt, standing slightly by and behind Thor.

He can see she is afraid, and he hardly can blame her. As per usual, he's managed to muss things up without even trying.

God of Chaos indeed.

He forces his mouth into a smile, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment of her.

"M'lady." He says softly, eyes moving over her face, taking her in.

So this is Thor's Jane, he thinks curiously.

She is pretty… very pretty. Though he would fall shy of calling her beautiful. It hardly matters.

She looks back at him with intelligent eyes, he can see it well, and most usually, in his estimation, a sharp mind is worth more than a pleasant exterior.

"I am sorry if I frightened you." He goes on, lifting his head more fully. "It was not my intention."

Jane swallows, smiling palely, giving a vague nod.

"That's okay." She says, nearly soundlessly. She swallows again and looks away.

Loki is intimidating.

In a way totally different from Thor.

Thor is all physical power and bulging muscle.

To look at Loki, you wouldn't think him particularly strong, though Jane knows better than to make that ridiculous mistake.

And it isn't even the fact he almost just blew her away with a burst of magical energy which she hasn't the first clue or even basic knowledge of the workings of, but feels pretty confident it would likely disintegrate her atoms, or some equally unpleasant thing.

No, it isn't any of that.

It's his _eyes_.

She's never seen eyes like that.

It isn't the terrifying red of before.

His eyes are now almost translucent green through the irises, near glowing in their paleness.

And there is _fierce_ intelligence there.

She isn't even sure how to describe it, the affect it has to look back.

It feels to her as though he's seeing straight into her soul, like just by looking at her, he can tell everything no one else ever knew, herself included.

Her discomfort has suddenly grown tenfold in the space of a few seconds, and she wishes abruptly she were somewhere else.

The rest of his features aren't helping.

She'd gotten a good look at him while she'd been washing and wrapping his wounds, seen even closer the beauty Thor had spoken of.

But seeing him conscious, seeing that beauty given animation and life, and with those _eyes_, it added a whole other dimension to what he had, and she was doubting now her _own _theories about his self-doubt in finding a companion, understanding better Thor's reluctance to accept such too. She didn't see how Loki could _not_ know what he looked like. To the point more still, she didn't see how anyone would ever have turned him _down_.

And yet, from what Thor had told her, Loki's self-belief was precarious at best, and he had more often than not been met with one rejection after another at the hands of the Aesir.

The few moments of conversation she'd heard between Thor and his brother only seemed to bolster such a reality. Loki had sounded anything but sure of himself, Thor talking to him like one might a shy child, trying gently to coax some confidence into him.

Whatever that had been though, it is gone now.

Loki is looking back at her with absolute certainty, eyes fixed and unwavering and _seeing_, bright smile pulling across his lips and back, revealing perfect teeth.

He looks _boyish_. Incredibly young, and so sure.

Thor had told her he and Loki were several thousand years old, Thor ahead by a couple of centuries. Something which she'd had trouble enough wrapping her mind around.

Seeing how youthful Loki appears, fresh faced and, as Thor had said, all charm, she finds it even harder to grasp or believe.

He looks like he's _nineteen_ or something, for Christ's sake!

"Will you pardon my woeful lack of etiquette?" He is speaking again. "And my being embarrassingly underdressed for the occasion of meeting such a fair and lovely maiden as yourself? I am afraid my state is not at its best, my thoughts unfocused and frayed."

At once, he is pushing himself from the bed, beginning to stand.

Thor moves towards him, hands held out to catch.

Loki feels the world shift dangerously beneath his feet, threatening to make him ill and fell him to the ground.

But he pushes the dizziness away, ignoring the weakness he feels in his knees as he waves his brother off and steps towards Jane, reaching out and taking delicate hold of her hand, bending down and placing a kiss upon her knuckles.

"I am Loki of Asgard." He says softly, meeting her eyes again. "It is my great honor to at last make your acquaintance, fair Lady Jane."

Okay, she thinks, so he doesn't _talk_ like a nineteen year old.

It's suddenly her who feels like a teenage girl. She can't help the way her cheeks flush red, and her eyes again lower, lips pulling up in a bashful smile.

"It… it's a pleasure to meet you too Loki." She says shyly, daring to glance up at him, hating how stupid she sounds. "Thor's told me so much about you."

Loki smiles, still holding her hand gently.

"As he has to me of you. Though I pray for me he spoke only words of flattery, lest I find myself again placed in the rather awkward position of frightening off another of his fine companions and having to explain myself to the brute. I assure, it never ends well for me under such dreary circumstance. I fear my oft garish manner and coarse visage require my brother's buttering up before I am at all presentable to such a rarified and delicate creature as yourself."

Jane giggles. She can't help it, cheeks blushing further and genuinely amused.

Thor is staring at Loki. In general he would be admiring the younger gods skill in wooing, something he had never openly admitted to being jealous of, but which he long had been, secretly wishing he had Loki's gift with words and charm.

But all of it has gone out of his mind now, and he is _staring_ at Loki because… because Loki called him _brother_. Called him so without hesitation, without even seeming _thought_. And he can scarcely believe it. Can hardly…

And he feels suddenly his heart is full to bursting with _joy_. He barely is able to contain the sensation, his lips pulling back in a grin achingly wide. He wants to leap in the air and holler aloud his happiness.

But he restrains himself, for he knows Loki will not appreciate the show of emotion. Likely would glean the cause of it, for Thor also knows Loki is ever fully aware of his own words and actions, and the thunder god knows not how long it would be then before the younger prince deemed him deserving of the familial title again.

He does not wish to ruin this.

And so he only smiles, and restrains himself, and watches as Loki continues to enchant and enthrall his Lady through words alone, Jane enraptured and beguiled and smiling. She giggles unintended and is shy before the young gods charisma, wrapped well round his finger and held within his palm in seeming mere seconds.

Thor is not concerned.

Loki has done this always with those maiden's the elder prince has staked his claim in, spinning their heads and floating their feet with verbal delights.

It is fun for Loki, Thor knows.

But never has he encroached on what is Thor's. Never has he tried to steal it away.

Only when he had cut the golden locks from Lady Sif's head had Loki allowed any sign of his own jealousy to seep out into the open, and even still, Thor does not know if it had been jealousy for the Goddess of War herself, or for _him_.

If it had even been jealousy at all, Loki's motives ever a mystery.

But still, Thor knows he has no need for worry.

His little brother's initial charms had many times before sent taken maidens to seek his company again, and always, the trickster god would send them back, explaining dutifully and with gentle kindness, so as not to cause them humiliation, that they were not his to claim, and so they should banish any interest of him and return to the arms of their beloved, seek warmth _there_.

It did not always work. Though usually it did, Loki with his talent for persuasion.

Thor remembers one instance, a young maiden who had been claimed by Fandral, but who had been so taken in by Loki's charms, that she would not leave him be for many weeks after first meeting him, even with his consistent refusals of her thereafter.

It had come to a head, eventually, Thor recalls. One afternoon in the feasting hall, when he and the Warrior's Three and Sif had been gathered round the table, telling each other tales of their conquests in glorious battle. Loki had been there too, sat at the far end of the table, away from the rest of them, silently listening.

None of them had paid him much heed, until it had been suddenly the doors flew open, and the young maiden, a girl named Layomen, had come bursting through, practically throwing herself at Loki's feet and begging him to have her.

Fandral had been incensed, rising from his chair and demanding loudly from Loki an explanation before then challenging him to a fight to determine who should have the hand of the girl.

It had been the first and only time Thor had ever seen his little brother be outwardly cruel to a maiden.

He had frowned deeply at Fandral, refusing to address him further before he'd turned back to Layomen, and told her in a cold voice that she had been deluded. That her infatuation with him was nothing more than a spell of enchantment he had cast over her for his own amusement. That she had been bewitched, and his feelings for her were none but at that point contempt.

"_And for me you should feel only the same. You do not _love _me girl, so be off with you and never dare to embarrass me before a viewing public again, or I shall do worse to you than a simple enrapturing_."

It hadn't been true. Thor _knew_ it hadn't been. Loki had cast no spell over her at all. She had been in love with him _sincerely_.

But before Fandral, before the man who had laid his claim to her beforehand, the trickster god had rejected her outright and meanly, for the sake of propriety.

Thor remembers how Layomen had burst into tears, weeping almost madly on the floor, before eventually she had picked herself up, wiping the back of her hand against her eyes and glaring at Loki with withering venom.

"_Then I hate you_." She had hissed, before spitting right in his face and storming out.

Thor remembers too how Fandral had laughed as Loki had wiped the saliva from his face, telling the younger prince he had done wisely to reject her as he had, though his doing so had also been cowardly, and he should be ashamed of his refusal to fight for the hand of a beautiful girl.

Thor had yelled at Fandral to watch his tongue, but it had been too late, as usual. Loki had already pushed back in his seat and stood, walking from the room without another word to any of them.

A deep frown moves in place of his earlier smile at the memory, and he is pulled from it abruptly when he sees Loki sway and step back from Jane, his hand coming to his head.

Loki laughs softly, though there is nothing amused in the sound.

"You will forgive me, M'lady." He begins, tone embarrassed. "I am afraid I feel somewhat unwell still. I think perhaps I… I should sit down…"

He sways again, Jane gasps and Thor reaches out for him just as the younger gods legs give out beneath him, catching him before he can hit the floor and moving him back towards the bed.

"You overexert yourself brother." He says gently, easing his brother back so that he lies against the mattress, lifting his legs up a moment later.

Loki's hand comes up to his head, pressing his palm against his temple, eyes closing.

His face looks suddenly strained, brow furrowed deep.

"Yes, I… I believe so." He says tiredly, voice suddenly dragging and slow.

He lies still a moment, silent, before at last he turns his head, eyes coming open, weary, finding Jane.

He smiles vaguely at her.

"I am sorry M'lady." He says again, voice nearly a whisper now. "I hope you are not too disappointed in me."

Jane frowns, head shaking firmly.

"No, no, don't apologize Loki." She says. "You're sick, you need rest, and I… I could never be disappointed in you."

He continues smiling, watching her a long instant.

"You must give me time dear." He says quietly then, before at last turning away, eyes slipping back shut.

Jane feels her heart sink, watching as Thor fixes and arranges the blankets over his brother, pulling them up to his chest, making sure he is comfortable before turning back to her and reaching out.

"We should let him rest." He says in a hushed tone, taking her hand. "We can perhaps gather some amenities for later in the evening."

And she only nods, letting him lead her from the room, glancing back over her shoulder one last time, seeing the now sleeping god, praying to some other that he will be okay.

/

**AN: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one, and hoped you continue to enjoy the story!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

She wakes in the middle of the night to a darkened room, and the comforting warmth of Thor, lying beside her, his deep and even breaths the only sound she can hear.

For several minutes, she lies there, listening to him, smiling softly to herself. She feels safe with him here, she thinks. Safer than she ever has in her entire life. Thor is so sweet to her, so incredibly gentle, and in the same moment, she knows he would never let anything happen to her. That he would protect her fiercely against any harm, and she supposes that's where the feeling of safety comes from. That surety that he _can_ protect her.

She guesses that's what you gain when you're dating a _god_. It's still a concept she can barely wrap her mind around, and yet she knows it is true.

At the same time, she knows it's not as safe here as it now feels. That they will have to move on soon.

They still haven't spoken of what they're going to do.

She doesn't think she really wants to.

Her and Thor had walked for at least an hour before they'd come upon a town, Thor carrying Loki in his arms, wrapped in his cape to hide his wounds. They'd received plenty of strange looks anyway, but eventually had gleaned from one of the residents that they were in a place called Broxton, in Ohio. It must have been where they'd been flying over before they'd escaped the Hellicarrier.

Jane had asked the woman if they could direct them towards the nearest motel, smiling and saying that their "friend", meaning Loki, was a little inebriated and needed to lie down.

The woman had given a disapproving look, but had helped them anyway, and Thor had commented that her skill in weaving lies would impress Loki himself.

She hadn't been sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

Loki had only woken once more since their checking in here, and only briefly, asking about where they were, a few questions about how Thor had managed to get him free from SHIELD, telling the elder god he owed him a debt of gratitude, Thor dismissing it summarily before Loki had fallen unconscious again.

It wasn't long after that she and Thor had retired also, and glancing at the clock, Jane sees it's three in the morning.

She's only been sleeping a few hours then.

Turning her head, she expects to see Loki sleeping still in the bed beside them. But when her eyes adjust to the dark, she sees no form there, and momentarily, there is a burst of panic, her eyes shifting ahead almost frantically.

And then she sees him, in the uppermost left hand corner of the room, sitting at the small table there.

He is wearing a t-shirt and sweats, his back mostly to her. But there is a tiny glow of orange light, she's sure candlelight, emitting just in front of where his elbows rest on the surface, and she can see in his hands he's holding a book, likely one of the ones she and Thor had earlier purchased from the drug store across from their motel, Thor saying something about how his brother would need something to help him stay occupied for when he woke.

"_Loki loves to read above all other form of activity, save perhaps casting spells_." He had said fondly when she had asked what he liked to do.

There had only been cheap, dime store romance novels available though, and they'd had to make due.

For a long moment, Jane watches him, noticing how every half second he is turning the page, and she wonders at how anyone could possibly read that fast. She's heard of speed readers, but the rate at which he's moving, it seems impossible.

She wonders then how it is she hadn't heard him, and as the seconds tick by, she realizes there isn't a sound in the room beyond hers and Thor's breath.

She can't _hear_ Loki, not even his breathing, and she realizes with some alarm he is completely silent, even as he turns rapidly the pages of the book.

"Trouble sleeping?"

She nearly yelps in shock at the sound of his voice, staring wide eyed at him a long, few seconds before she's able to compose herself enough to answer.

"H… how did you know I was awake?" She asks shakily, voice a harsh whisper.

Loki smiles, though she doesn't see it.

He's still turning the pages.

"I sensed your consciousness." He answers. Another turned paged.

Jane blinks.

"You sensed…?" She starts, voice trailing off.

"You have been awake the past fifteen minutes, yes?"

Another page.

For a moment, she doesn't answer.

"… Um, yeah, I… I guess so." She finally says blankly.

Another page, and at last he turns, looking at her.

She sees indeed it is a candle which is giving off the soft bit of light, and she wonders idly where he got it from, since neither she nor Thor bought any at the drug store.

He is smiling at her, and she feels suddenly, inexplicably exposed.

"Care to join me?" He asks.

"What?"

He turns away, waving his hand. And Jane nearly jumps out of her skin as she watches a chair appear out of thin air, placed along the opposing side of the table.

"If you cannot sleep, I would welcome your company." He says.

And then the room falls silent once more, and he's back to reading his book, turning pages every half second.

For several minutes, Jane just watches him, unsure what to make of the whole thing.

Was that… was that _magic _he just did? Making that chair appear like that?

She has to admit to herself, she was slightly disturbed. And his knowing she was awake… she hated to use the word, but it was damn _creepy_. The same way it was creepy how this guy didn't make a _sound_.

She frowned at herself, thinking at once about how hurt Thor would be to hear her think such thoughts about his brother. Further, what Loki might think if he heard her. He had been nothing but a perfect gentleman so far. And she pays him back by thinking he's a creep?

Eventually, guilt forces her from the bed, pushing the covers off herself and slipping from the mattress.

Thor doesn't stir at all, and she makes her way as quietly as she can across the room to where the other god is sitting.

She hesitates briefly when reaching out for the conjured chair, wondering for a moment if it has any substance to it, almost shocked when she finally does touch it and it feels to her as solid as any chair.

She sits, and Loki continues turning the pages.

She notices he is more than halfway through. At the rate he's going, he'll be done within five minutes, she thinks.

She sees the stack of books off to his right.

She looks down.

A long while passes, and he says nothing.

He's as quiet up close as he was from across the room, and Jane has to suppress a shiver.

Finally, she can't take it anymore, and she clears her throat softly.

"So, uh, you couldn't sleep either?" She asks.

_Duh Jane, of _course_ he couldn't sleep, it's why he's awake, _idiot.

"I am afraid rest has ever come uneasy to me." He says.

Another page turned, and suddenly he closes the book, placing it along the top of the stack to his right. She realizes belatedly he must have gotten through all of them already.

He's looking at her now, smiling softly.

"I have never been able to sleep deeply as Thor does." He goes on. "It is one of many of his traits I find myself envious of."

His smile widens slightly, and Jane feels awkward.

"… Oh." She says.

And slowly the smile fades from the trickster gods lips, and he leans back in his seat, observing her intently.

It is enough to make her look away again.

"I trouble you." He says.

It isn't a question.

Her eyes go slightly wide, looking back up and shaking her head.

"No, no, of course not. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

He shakes his head, cutting her short.

"It is alright." He says quietly. "I trouble most. Most of all myself."

He smiles weakly for the briefest of moments, before it again fades.

He regards her closely.

"They say I am the harbinger of Ragnarok." He suddenly says.

"… Ragnarok?" Jane asks after a few seconds, confused.

Loki nods.

"What you may call the apocalypse. The end of all things."

Again, Jane feels her eyes widen.

"… You… they say that about you?"

Once more, the god nods his head.

"It is prophesized. I have been fated by the Norns upon infancy." He answers, and she can hardly believe the casual tone of his voice. "Though not all prophesies come to pass, and fates can be altered."

He smiles lightly. But when he speaks again, there is sadness in his voice.

"I suppose however one should have little faith in me to stray from my intended path. I have already wrought much destruction."

She is staring at him in disbelief, unable to fully comprehend what he is saying.

He shrugs, at last his too intense eyes shifting from her face, fixing on the table below.

"As you doubtless can imagine, it is not an appealing prospect to most, befriending the would be instigator of their doom." He smirks, though there is no actual amusement in the expression. "So yes, indeed, most are troubled by me, fair lady Jane. You needn't feel guilt over your thoughts."

But she does.

What he says only makes her feel more so, as she suddenly imagines what horror it must be, to be saddled with such a thing. To have your reputation ruined and opinions formed of you before you ever were old enough to have a choice in any of it. For people to always look at you a certain way, to have formed judgments on you for what you _might _do, rather then for what you have _actually_ done.

She feels sick with the thought, her hands curling tight in her lap.

"… That's unfair." She whispers softly, almost to herself.

Loki chuckles.

"Perhaps." He says. "But the fates never have concerned themselves with questions of fairness. And so rarely do people when their own lives are at stake. They cannot be blamed entirely for it."

Jane's brow furrows, lost in thought a moment.

"Thor's only said good things about you." She finally decides to say, hoping it will mean something.

Loki only smiles sadly, giving a nod.

"Thor would." He replies.

Jane's expression pulls in confusion.

"What do you mean?" She asks, glancing over at the sleeping thunder god before looking back.

Loki straightens in his chair, folding his hands upon the desk.

A long, few seconds pass in silence.

"Thor can be of simple mind." He finally says after a while. "That is not to say he is unintelligent. He is far from it, despite my often jesting to the contrary." Loki is looking at her hard. "But he is of greater heart, and he will frequently let his emotions lead him where instead he should let his intellect."

Jane sits silently, listening, looking back.

Loki sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly, eyes at last dropping from hers.

"Those he loves, he loves completely." He says, voice trailing off.

He pauses a long moment.

"Even those that find themselves lacking in deservedness of it, those that have given him every reason to hate them utterly, he loves them still if he has loved them before." He says, almost too softly to hear. "… Nothing can sway him from his loyalty."

At last he looks back to her, and she is sure his eyes are wet, though his voice is steady as steel.

"You find yourself in good company with him Lady Jane. He loves you, and he loves you completely. He will be loyal to you for all of your days, and give fully of his heart to you every moment of. I should only pray to those beings of greater power than we that I could one day be so good as Thor."

And then he falls silent, glancing away, reaching out and beginning to fiddle with the stack of books, arranging them neatly over and over in what seems a nervous tick.

The great sureness of him is suddenly gone, in its place the same glimpse of ill-confidence she had seen earlier.

For a while, Jane doesn't know how to respond, only staring back at him, lips parted, as though she knows there's something she should say, but can't think what.

She feels suddenly… overwhelmed.

Eventually, she is able to gather her thoughts, and she swallows thickly, mouth dry as she stammers out…

"Have… have you ever loved anyone?"

She regrets the question immediately when she sees Loki still, his hands ceasing in their arrangement of the books, and he sits frozen a moment, face unnervingly blank.

_Stupid, _stupid _Jane. What the _hell _is wrong with you, that you think you have any right to ask him that? What the hell has that got to do with anything anyway? You'll be lucky if he doesn't incinerate you into dust any second now_._ Stupid, God damned idi…_

"Once." He says suddenly, voice strangely impassive. "A long time ago."

He isn't looking at her. He begins again to rearrange the books.

"But they did not love me, and they are dead now."

Jane feels her breath catch in her throat, and she wants suddenly to ask him so many questions. Who this person was, how he can be sure they didn't love him back, how they died.

But she doesn't dare ask any of it, and at once he's taken up one of the books and changed the subject entirely.

"These Midgardian books you purchased contain perhaps the most atrocious writing I have ever come across." He says, looking at her. "The authors have not even an ounce of talent."

Jane's lips purse, and she's about to apologize for insulting his tastes, explain they didn't have many choices, before he's again speaking, cutting her short.

"Yet oddly," he says, smiling. "I find I rather enjoy them. They prove a worthy distraction. I think I should like more, if the opportunity to acquire such presents itself. I nearly regret having read through them all with such haste."

And Jane smiles.

"We can pick some more up for you at that drug store in the morning, if you like." She says.

Loki nods.

"Yes, that should do finely, Lady Jane." He says. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness."

She shrugs.

"It wasn't any trouble." She says quietly, looking away.

She's angry at herself for being relieved when, a few minutes later, Loki tells her he's feeling tired now, vanishing the candle into nothing with a wave of his hand before he wishes her a good night and excuses himself to bed.

Confused when she crawls back in next to Thor a little while later, and finds herself missing their conversation already.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

She and Thor walk beside one another, Loki ahead several paces.

Jane doesn't understand how he's able to walk so fast, especially given how physically fragile he is at the moment. Though by the standards of any normal, healthy human being, she supposes, he isn't fragile at all.

Still, she finds it hard to swallow.

Loki had asked Thor that morning if he would be allowed to go for a walk about the town, saying he was feeling suffocated by the motel room's dingy air, thinking that his aching muscles would be well served by some movement and exercise.

Thor had agreed to let him go, so long as he would be allowed to accompany him and keep watch. Jane had of course been invited, and since she'd had nothing even remotely better to do, she had accepted the invitation.

She'd said nothing about how odd it struck her that Loki would ask Thor permission to do anything at all.

And so now, here they were, Loki moving at, to say the least, a brisk pace. Jane watches him as she and Thor meander behind, noticing the way the trickster gods head constantly pivots about. The way he is constantly _looking _at everything. He is still dressed in the t-shirt and sweats from the night before, with a pair of sneakers upon his feet which he'd "conjured". Apparently, that's what it was called when he made things with his magic. Jane still felt herself freak out every time he did it. His hair was slicked back, a pair of sunglasses sitting on his face, another thing which he'd whipped out of thin air.

It was bizarre to see him dressed so casually, given how _regal _looking he was. It didn't seem to matter how sloppy his clothes were, that didn't go away, what with his perfectly straight backed posture, and the incredible elegance in his stride, the delicacy of his movements. The way he carried himself was unlike anything Jane had ever seen. He was as graceful as a cat. Everything he did, it seemed so incredulously _light_. Like gravity had no real affect on him.

Thor fit much better into their surroundings. Though he still looked out of place given his enormity, and he too carried an air of something _more _about him. Obviously. Still, jeans and a t-shirt looked more natural on him than it did on Loki.

Continuing to observe the younger god, Jane can't help but notice too the way his hands keep shifting, fingers curling and splaying and tracing intricate patterns through the air, like he was playing some imaginary piano or something.

She wonders what he's doing, and she has to keep reminding herself that at the tips of those long, long fingers, is power beyond her comprehension.

It gives her a chill, and she shivers slightly.

Thor reaches out, putting his arm around her.

"Are you cold, Lady Jane?" He asks.

"A little." She lies.

"Do you wish to go back to our lodgings and fetch your coat?" He inquires sweetly, and she shakes her head.

"No, I'm… I'm alright now." She says, reaching up and grasping his hand over her shoulder, smiling up at him.

A few minutes pass in silence as they continue on, Thor's eyes back and ever observant on his little brother.

Jane doesn't think she's ever seen anyone be so protective of another person in her life, and she thinks then it's beautiful.

She thinks of Loki's words from last night, about Thor. About how he loves completely. And she's sure then the trickster god is right.

A few minutes more, and she's back to watching Loki, it striking her again for the dozenth time how unnaturally quiet he is. She realizes with an unpleasant drop down through her stomach that she can't hear his _footsteps_.

"You ever notice how, um… _quiet_ Loki is?" She asks absently to Thor.

"Hmm?" He says, glancing down at her.

She gestures forward, towards the younger prince.

"Your brother." She says. "He doesn't make any _noise_."

And Thor smiles, nodding.

"Ah, yes, you have noticed. Indeed, Loki has ever had the gift of silence"

"The gift of silence?" She asks.

Again Thor nods.

"Aye." He says. "Even as a very small child, his movements emitted no sound. He could for miles be walking directly behind you, less than a foot away, and you would never know he was there unless you were to turn around and see him with your own, two eyes."

Jane frowns, and again, she can't help the shiver which runs through her frame.

Thor's brow furrows, feeling it this time, seeing the worried expression across her features.

"Does something trouble you Jane?" He asks, unsure.

Jane swallows.

"No. No, it's just…" she stammers, feeling suddenly guilty.

A moment passes.

"Yes?" Thor urges her on.

Jane shrugs, casting her eyes to the ground.

"It's just a little… scary, is all." She at last mutters, almost to herself.

"Scary?" Thor questions, not understanding.

"Yeah, I mean…" she hesitates, not wanting to upset the thunder god. "I mean, it just seems a bit unnatural. That someone could be that quiet." She glances nervously up at him. "I mean, you could never hear them coming."

And now Thor seems to comprehend.

He nods.

"Yes, I suppose it could be considered an unsettling attribute to an enemy of my brother's. Indeed, I have observed him many a time in many a battle approach at a foe's back without them ever realizing until it was too late. Until he had sunk a blade into them deep at the hilt."

Jane cringes, and Thor frowns.

"He has never done such a thing to those considered his allies." He adds quickly. "He has only ever made mischief against those of us in Asgard. Harmless pranks. At least, before… before relations between us soured."

"I… I know." Jane says, feeling even worse now for letting her unease show.

Thor is watching her intently now as they continue walking, unsure she is convinced by his words.

"… Loki is of good heart." He says after a moment. "He is truly, in spite of what he would perhaps lead you to believe. In spite of what even _he_ may believe."

"I know." Jane replies, her face flushing. And now she's angry at herself for bringing it up at all. She knew she shouldn't have.

The two of them fall into an uneasy silence after that, Thor eventually looking back to his brother, still ahead of them, still taking in his surroundings with seeming great wonder.

Jane hates the awkward position she's put herself in, and thinks frantically for some way out of it.

"He…" she clears her throat. "he looks like he's enjoying himself." She points out after a while.

"Aye." Thor nods. "The fresh air does him well."

Jane pauses, wondering what else to say.

"He seems curious." She finally decides upon, thinking she sounds like a moron a second after.

But again, Thor only nods.

"Indeed, my brother is a great observer." He says. "He sees everything."

"Everything?" Jane asks.

Another nod.

"He makes it his business to. To study whatever world is around him. It is Loki's great passion in life."

"Oh…" Jane says, again falling silent.

Another few minutes, and she can't help her own curiosity any more.

"Is it… is it true what they say?" She starts anxiously, looking up at the thunder god. "That… that Loki is supposed to bring about the end of the universe?"

Thor halts, dead in his tracks, staring ahead and frozen a long instant.

Jane feels her anxiety rise tenfold as finally he looks down at her, and there is a deep frown adorning his ridiculously handsome features.

"Where did you hear such a thing?" He asks after a moment.

And Jane averts her own gaze, hand coming up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous habit.

"… L-Loki told me." She admits quietly. "Last night."

"You spoke with my brother last night?"

She nods.

"I… I woke up and he was awake, sitting at the table, reading. He… he asked me to join him and we started talking and…"

"It is a prophesy of the Norns." Thor cuts her short, and for the first time, she hears irritation in his voice. "Nothing more."

Jane swallows thickly, daring to glance up at him.

"… Is it true?" She asks.

"It is one in many possibilities." Thor replies, looking away, eyes locking ahead on Loki. "Each of us is given an innumerable set of paths on which we may be led down. It is not possible to know with any certainty which is the correct one."

Jane feels herself tense, finally looking away to.

"… Do… do any other of your… your people, I mean, is anyone else prophesized to…"

"No." Thor again interrupts.

Jane really feels like she's put her foot in her mouth now, and her hands clench at her sides, shoulders hunching.

"Loki said fates can be altered." She breathes after a moment.

Thor nods sharply.

"Aye." He replies. "That they can. If one has a will strong enough, if they are without fear and possess great enough determination to defy the Norns and their tapestry, it can be done." He looks down at her finally. "My brother possess such a will and strength. If it truly be his fate to be the harbinger of Ragnarok, he will alter it. He will not let it come to pass. It is not what he wants."

Jane nods, keeping her eyes down.

She wants to believe Thor.

Glancing up at Loki, she thinks even maybe she does.

He seems so… _gentle _to her.

Thinking back to her conversation with him last night.

She can't actually imagine it.

Someone so quiet and so incredibly intelligent. Someone who loves above all else to read and to study and to learn.

She can't imagine him bringing about the end of the world.

She decides to change the subject.

"He's really amazing." She says.

And Thor looks down at her.

"His… his magic, I mean. It's amazing what he does."

She glances up at him, and the relief she feels when he smiles is almost overwhelming.

He nods.

"Indeed." He says excitedly, as seemingly happy with the change in topic as she is. "You have seen but the smallest fraction of what he is capable."

Jane's eyes widen slightly, looking back in genuine curiosity now.

"… What else can he do?" She asks, no small amount of wonder in her voice.

And Thor laughs lightly.

"Many things." He says. "Many things which would captivate your mind, which you would have sworn on the names of your ancestors were not possible."

Jane is looking at him now with such eager questioning that he cannot help but to again laugh.

"Well?" She pushes.

And he grins.

"I have seen Loki unleash from his hands blasts of pure energy powerful enough to reduce whole mountains to nothing more than _dust_, to be carried away by the gentlest of breezes. I have watched him conjure from thin air the most precious of treasures, gems and gold and silver, a thousand times more pure and true than anything you will ever find buried in the earth of your planet. Anything he can imagine, he can create. Any construct, and make it appear and feel as real as any which is. He had used to put on for the court the most spectacular of shows, spinning from air the most fantastic delights one could possibly envision. An absolute feast for the eyes, so beautiful even the greatest among his detractors had used to gasp in awe at the images his fingers would weave.

He has walked the paths between the branches of Yggdrasil, between the _stars_." Thor motions upwards, towards the sky, as though to demonstrate his point. "Paths no other Aesir has ever ventured before, beyond what any Aesir has ever seen or known. Even the great Gate Keeper, Heimdall himself. Even All-Father Odin. He can create limitless and perfect duplicates of himself, though it has only ever taken him conjuring a single one to fool the likes of me." He laughs.

Jane laughs with him.

"And he can shift into any form he desires. From the most minute of insects, no larger than a speck of dust, to the greatest and fiercest of beasts."

Jane's eyes are huge now, unable to keep the shock from her face.

"He can _shape shift_?"

"Aye. Though the form he likes best beyond his own, I believe, is a falcon. Loki loves very much to fly."

"Jesus." She breathes, her eyes shifting back to the trickster god, unable to wrap her mind around it. "You would… you would never think to look at him that he was so… _powerful_."

"Loki is unassuming in appearance, true." Thor concedes. "But woe be onto any who underestimate his strength. He is one of Asgard's finest warriors, and felled many an enemy on the fields of battle."

Jane glances back to the thunder god.

"Is… is he as powerful as you?" She asks, somewhat hesitant.

Thor nods.

"Aye." He replies. "Perhaps, in some ways, even more so. Though he lacks the belief in himself to have bested me in single combat more than rarely, I do not doubt for a moment, if he would but believe himself capable, he would have come out the victor in at least half our clashes. You understand, Lady Jane, Loki is regarded widely to be the greatest sorcerer in all the Nine Realms. Perhaps the greatest to _ever_ be."

Jane's mouth is hung agape, disbelieving.

"You mean, he's the most powerful sorcerer in the whole _universe_?" She asks.

Thor's brow furrows slightly.

"Well, no." He says. "That is not what I mean exactly."

Jane's face pulls in confusion.

Thor goes on.

"What I mean to say is, Loki's comprehension of magical theory, the level of his understanding of its workings and principles, and his ability to wield and manipulate not only his own energy, but the energies of any world which surrounds him, is thought unparalleled, unmatched by any other known being in the universe. His talent is without known equal. But there are those whose magical energy is far greater, far more powerful than my brothers. Our Father Odin among them. Though Loki is yet very young, and as he ages, his power will grow. With the vastness of his talent then, and his untouched brilliance in the theory of magic, his potential is thought near impossible to determine or measure."

It is suddenly the smile lessens, and then vanishes from Thor's face, and when he next speaks, it is with a hint of sadness.

"You can so imagine Jane, it has been the cause of much unrest among our people, Loki's gifts. The use of magic among the Aesir is an area predominate by women. It is an arena thought of as a woman's place and a woman's discipline. Not a man's. Men who wield magic are thought largely to be men of cowardice and deceit. By virtue of such thoughts alone, Loki's interest in the craft was already frowned heavily upon."

"But…" Jane disrupts, not understanding. "but you said your Father is a magic user."

Thor nods.

"Aye. But Odin is our King. It is thought acceptable, by some even necessary that their ruler be well versed in all areas, even one so dismissed as magic. Indeed, it is well Odin be, for Asgard is built upon magic, and the Nine governed by such energy. It is only ignorance which forms the bias of the Aesir. An ignorance I myself once fell to. Loki has been treated unfairly and unkindly by our people for it, ridiculed and bullied beyond any and all reason, the ill-treatment made only worse by the understanding of Loki's greatness of talent, and the immense quantity of magical energy he possesses. It had made our people nervous, the All-Father himself not immune to such fear when taken with the prophesies you earlier mentioned."

Jane's mouth feels dry as she stares at Thor, her fingers numb, seeing already where this story is going.

Thor's expression grows heavier still in dismay.

"For many centuries, Odin denied Loki the right to practice his gifts. He would not allow him to hone his magical energy. Forbade it, for fear of Loki growing too powerful. Powerful enough to one day incite Ragnarok. But Loki has ever been stubborn, and persistent, and he would teach himself and practice in secret. He was punished often and severely each time he was caught. But he refused to yield, continuing on in his studies, no matter how harsh the consequence. It was finally Odin realized he could do nothing to Loki to make him cease his use. Nothing short of banishing him, and since in truth what Loki practiced was against no law of our Realm, he had eventually to concede, and let my brother alone to do as he wished.

But ever has Odin made his displeasure in Loki known, his disapproval of Loki's chosen discipline. He had made it a habit indeed to humiliate my brother in the public arena whenever possible, most usually in the training arena, I suppose in an attempt to dissuade Loki from practicing. If Loki employed his abilities during a match and thusly won, and Odin was present to see, the All-Father would himself challenge him next."

Thor shakes his head in disgust.

"It was unheard of, of course, for the All-Father to participate among his subjects in such a manner. But for Loki, he made an exception. I explained our Father's power is much greater than is Loki's, despite my brothers better skill in the wielding of the energy. He never stood a chance. But I suppose that was the point. Odin would overwhelm and overpower him with his own magic. Embarrass him. And then he would ask Loki afterwards, as he lay defeated and humiliated on the ground, if he thought the use of magic in the combat arena was fair, and of course, Loki would have to answer no, before a crowd of hundreds, sometimes thousands. And Odin would nod and leave him to pick himself up from the dirt."

Thor looks away, and Jane watches his hand lift to his face, wiping at his eyes.

"I was such a _fool_ Jane. I believed my Father right in his lessons. I believed what he did to Loki he did for Loki's own benefit. That it would help him in the end. I supported such treatment, even when I felt the guilt of it in my guts when helping my brother from the ground. I would tell him… I would tell Loki it was for his own good. That he should have known better than to use his magic."

He pauses, remembering how Loki had only ever been silent when he said such things. How he would refuse to meet Thor's gaze. To meet anyone's as he would walk from the arena, head bowed low, frame tense, listening to the shouting and jeering and laughter of the crowds.

How Loki would disappear for days at a time after each such humiliation.

"Perhaps Odin truly believed it to be for the best too." Thor goes on despondently. "But I understand now it only served to ravage further Loki's damaged regard for himself. Only served to embitter him more against us, and stoke the flames of his rage. We were all fools, and we paid the price for it. We all _deserved_ to."

At last, he falls silent, and for a long while, Jane doesn't know what to say, staring back at him in both horror and disbelief, before finally she breathes out, voice shaking slightly.

"Jesus Thor, I… my God, that's… that's terrible. That's…" she shakes her head, unsure how else to respond.

"It is most grievous, Lady Jane." Thor nods. "I do not know if my brother will ever fully forgive me."

He looks down, voice nearly a whisper.

Jane reaches out, placing a comforting hand along his shoulder.

"I think he already has Thor." She smiles gently at him.

And Thor looks back, a desperate kind of hope in his eyes.

"He loves you Thor. You know?" She goes on. "He really loves you a lot. It's in the way he talks about you. He admires you so much."

Thor smiles woefully.

"I am not so certain I deserve his admiration." He says.

And Jane squeezes down on his shoulder.

"You do Thor." She replies. "He'll be the first to tell you so."

He reaches up, taking her hand and pulling it to his lips, kissing it softly.

"Thank you, Lady Jane." He says. "You are a creature of rare beauty and wisdom."

Jane grins bashfully, looking away and shrugging.

Thor looks away, down the street toward where Loki should be, and his brow furrows heavy, immediate panic blossoming in his heart.

He does not see his brother, and he realizes suddenly he and Jane have long ago stopped walking.

"Loki…" he breathes quietly, and Jane looks too, seeing him nowhere.

"Oh shit…" She looks back to him.

But Thor has already let go of her hand and broken into a run.

"LOKI!" He shouts frantically, and Jane throws herself after him, hardly able to keep pace.

**/**

They find him down a side street, knelt down onto his knees, in front of a child.

His hand is on the child's shoulder, and the child is weeping near uncontrollably, hands balled to fists and rubbing against wet eyes.

Loki is speaking to him.

Thor himself nearly starts weeping in relief at seeing his little brother okay, jogging towards him, Jane following several yards behind.

Reaching closer, and they can hear Loki is attempting to sooth the boy.

"It is alright now boy." He is saying, voice gentle and soft. "They are gone."

The boy doesn't respond, continuing to sob.

"They will hurt you no more." Loki goes on, reaching up and pushing the child's hair back from his face.

There is a large and nasty looking scrape along the boys forehead.

Loki presses his fingers to it, a soft glow of green light emitting from their tips, and an instant later, the scrape recedes into nothing, replaced by smooth, unmarred skin.

"You have my word." The god goes on quietly.

He's made sure the promise will hold true.

There had been three, older boys, Loki assumes around the ages of fourteen or fifteen, smacking this one around, pushing him to the ground and kicking him, accosting him with verbal insults.

Upon seeing the altercation, Loki had strode up to them and plucked them from the pavement, holding them in the air, all three of them, glaring at them in disgust before he'd spoken words they hadn't understood.

When he'd set them back down, they'd been stricken quite suddenly with an overwhelming fear of the same child they'd just beaten up, and gone running in a wild panic from him, back to their own homes.

Loki knows they will not anytime soon get over their newly developed terror.

He had smirked at the sight of them retreating, sobbing like infants.

"Where do you live?" He asks the child gently.

The boy sniffles loudly, finally dropping his hands away and looking up at Loki with wide, glistening eyes, still red with tears.

"Th… there." He points a stubby finger to a house across the street.

Loki looks back, nodding, before turning back to the boy.

"Are your parent's presently home?" He asks.

The boy nods stiffly.

"Then come along." Loki says in return, smiling as he stands to his feet, holding his hand out for the child to take. "We should return you to them."

The boy continues staring up at him a long moment, seeming to think, before at last he reaches out and takes hold of Loki's long fingers.

He smiles shyly.

"You're really nice." He says, matter of factly.

Loki looks back at him, saying nothing, before he looks away and gives the child a gentle tug.

"Come." He says, turning towards the house.

"Loki!" Thor calls out, finally reaching him.

The child's eyes grow wide in fear, and immediately, he ducks behind Loki's legs, clinging tightly to his pants.

Loki turns in surprise, looking down at the boy for some seconds before looking back up to Thor, frowning.

"You are scaring the boy further." He says disapprovingly.

Thor comes to a halt, a few moments later Jane catching up, stopping beside him.

"I thought we had lost you." Thor says, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

Loki only stares at him.

"Loki, you should not wander away from where I can see you." Thor goes on when it seems as though his brother doesn't understand.

Loki glares back at him then, the flash of anger obvious in his eyes.

"… The boy was being bullied by a group of ruffians. I came to his aide." He answers defensively.

"We were just worried Loki." Jane says breathlessly, seeing his building agitation.

Loki glances at her, and then back to Thor.

He says nothing.

Thor reaches a hand out slowly.

"It is as she says brother." He begins carefully, wary of inciting the younger god. "Only due to present circumstance, I was worried when I lost sight of you. The fault is mine for taking my eyes from you to begin with."

For a long, tense few seconds, Loki stares back at him, expression blank, and for an instant, Thor worries that his brother will lose his temper and begin raging that he doesn't need protection, that he is fine, most of all, that Loki will than vanish into air with his anger, to where Thor cannot follow.

Thor does not know what he will do should that happen.

But then Loki shifts, looking away and down to the boy still clinging to his legs.

"I will take the boy to his parents." He says. "And we can then return to the room, if it is what you wish."

Thor lets go a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding, and Jane feels her frame relax from its tension.

"Of course brother." Thor nods, smiling weakly.

Loki looks back to him, frowning.

"You needn't do that." He says.

Thor's face falls in puzzlement, and again concern.

"You needn't speak to me with such care, or handle me with such cautious trepidation." The younger god goes on. "I was not so angry as all that."

Thor nods.

"I know Loki." He replies slowly.

Loki holds his gaze a few seconds more, before finally he turns, holding his hand out to the child again.

The boy takes it, and both Thor and Jane stay, watching as Loki and the boy cross the street together, towards the child's house.

Jane frowns as they watch Loki step up onto the front porch, the boy tagging close along. As Loki helps him up, keeping hold of his hand and watching to make sure he doesn't trip over the step.

He is incredibly gentle with the child, and Jane thinks there's something almost sad about it.

"Is he alright?" She asks aloud absently.

It takes a long moment before Thor is able to answer, equally as entranced by the sight before him.

"… I do not know." He admits finally, voice hushed.

Loki is knocking on the door now.

A few seconds pass by, and Loki kneels down, saying something to the boy. Neither Thor nor Jane can make it out, but they see the child a moment later throw his arms around Loki's neck and hug him tight.

They see Loki stiffen at the action, but then relax an instant later, hugging the boy back.

The door comes open then, a woman standing in its threshold.

Loki stands, beginning to speak to her, and abruptly the woman reaches out, grabbing hold of the child by the arm, jerking him roughly into the house.

She is yelling then, her voice raised in seeming hostility before she steps back, and without warning slams the door back shut in Loki's face.

Jane gasps silently, Thor stands rigid.

For a long, few seconds, Loki does not move from the stoop.

Until at last, he turns, stepping from it and striding back towards them.

He doesn't stop as he reaches them.

Doesn't look at them.

"Let us go." Is all he says as he walks past, moving fast ahead.

Jane and Thor follow, and they don't say anything either.

/

When they get back to the motel, Loki doesn't say a word, only heads straight for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Cracks spiral out across the wall surrounding the frame, and Thor and Jane look worriedly to one another.

A moment later, they hear the rush of the sink faucet, and an unsettling silence settles over the room.

"… What's wrong with him?" Jane finally asks.

"He is upset." Thor answers, sitting down at the table.

Jane rolls her eyes.

"Well I can _see_ that." She says in exasperation.

Thor doesn't reply, and again, silence falls between them.

Jane sits down on the bed, hands gripping the edge.

"… Maybe you should talk to him." She suggests anxiously.

Thor's brow furrows.

"I do not think he wishes to be spoken to now." He answers.

"No, but maybe he _needs_ to be Thor." She shoots back.

Thor only looks further confused.

"… I do not wish for him to be angry." He finally answers after a moment.

"He's _already _angry Thor!" She throws her hands up.

"Yes, but if I _engage_ with him, he may yet grow angrier and teleport away, and I will not then know where to find him!"

Jane exhales loudly through her nose, frustrated.

"But Thor, this isn't _good_ for him." She argues back. "He's all messed up. By your own _admission_, he is. And it's stuff like this which probably made him that way in the first place! He's _upset_, and you're just going to let him deal with it on his own like that?"

Thor's mouth falls open, as though ready with some reply.

But then it again closes, and he looks away, clenching his fists.

"… It has ever been his way." He says finally, softly. "He hides away when something troubles him. He does not wish for others to see his emotion."

Jane frowns.

"And why do you think that is Thor?" She asks.

He looks at her, his own lips pulled down.

He says nothing.

"Maybe because he thinks you'd judge him for it?" She presses.

And Thor's expression shifts into something visibly annoyed.

"I would _not_." He shoots. "I would not judge him."

"Does he know that?"

"Of course he does! I have told him times enough!" Thor's voice rises just slightly.

Jane doesn't back down.

"But Thor, if you _ignore_ him every time he has a breakdown like this, what kind of message do you think that sends?"

And now Thor stands, frame tensed.

"I do not _ignore_ my brother!" He says hotly. "He wishes to be left alone, otherwise he would not have closed the door! You will see. Soon he will emerge, and it will be as though nothing had happened at all. He will be fine!"

Again, Jane rolls her eyes.

"Oh boy…"

Thor frowns severely.

"What does this mean? What is this expression you use?"

"Thor…" Jane stands from the bed, approaching him slowly. "_listen_ to what you're saying. 'He'll be fine.' 'He wants to be left alone.' 'If I just leave him alone, it'll be like none of this ever happened.'." She shakes her head. "Don't you see how screwed up that is? Loki's hiding in the bathroom you say because he doesn't like people to see him when he's emotional. Well you only perpetuate that kind of behavior in him by acting yourself like nothings wrong. How the hell's he supposed to know it's okay for him to share his problems with you when you don't talk to him about it at all? When you don't make the _effort_ to talk to him?"

Again, Thor's mouth comes open, again as though he has some response.

But nothing comes, and eventually, his head lowers, and he remains silent.

"Thor, just… _try _talking to him." She pushes, voice softer. "At least go up to the door and ask if he's alright. I mean, Christ, is that so hard?"

A moment passes, and then Thor shakes his head.

"Well?" She gestures towards the still closed bathroom door.

Thor inhales deeply, glancing at it, clear hesitation in his eyes.

"… If I upset him further, and he vanishes…" he starts to say.

"Just don't push him Thor." Jane says quietly. "Don't force yourself on him. Just show him that you're aware that he's upset, and that if he wants to, he can talk to you about it."

There is still apprehension in the thunder god, but at last, after a few, further encouraging words from her, he begins towards the bathroom door.

He stops outside it, hearing the water still rushing from the faucet, and glances at her nervously.

She waves him forward.

"Go on." She says.

And Thor breathes deeply, before finally raising his fist, knocking gently against the door.

There comes no reply at first.

Thor bites his lip.

"… Loki?" He calls, unsure.

"Go away." He hears the younger god call back.

Thor glances back to Jane, and again, she waves him forward, nodding.

Thor swallows and turns back to the door.

"Loki, are… are you alright brother?" He asks.

No reply.

Thor presses his hand against the door, his other resting on the knob.

"Loki…?"

More silence.

The thunder god leans his forehead against the wood.

"Loki, may I enter?"

Still nothing.

Another look back at Jane, and with her urging, Thor at last turns the handle, slowly pushing the door in.

He sees Loki, sat on his knees in front of the sink, his arms folded along the lip of it, chin resting atop them.

His heart catches in his throat at the sight of tears, streaked down the younger gods otherwise stoic face.

And he hesitates no more, stepping through the threshold, closing the door softly behind him.

"Loki?" He calls quietly.

Loki doesn't move.

He stares at himself in the mirror, perfectly still.

Thor moves closer.

"Brother?"

"Is it so obvious?"

He is halted by Loki's voice, soft, barely heard.

"What?" Thor asks.

Loki doesn't shift.

"… What I am?" He goes on. "Is it so obvious?"

Thor hesitates.

He hates it when Loki speaks like this. When he speaks in strange riddles.

"Loki, I do not understand." He replies.

"The woman…" he says, still staring at himself, eyes fixed and unblinking and shined bright. "the mother. She feared for her son. In my presence, she feared for him."

Thor says nothing. Unsure _what_ to say.

And abruptly, Loki reaches out, fingers pressing against the glass of the mirror, the tips of them flat against it.

Thor watches as green energy flows out the ends, surging through the reflective surface.

And at once, Loki's own reflection shifts, changing. White, unmarked skin replaced with multifaceted blue, deep scars of royal markings etching hard into the surface. Luminously green eyes taken over by deep, nearly black red, the rims of the irises freckled over in sprinkling of gold.

Loki himself remains as he was.

The brother Thor has always known.

The thunder god feels his breath catch in his throat as he stares at the reflection, transfixed.

Loki's skin looks so painfully cold.

Like he is trapped in a lake millennia frozen over, staring out and alone from its traitorous and black depths.

But he is beautiful, Thor thinks.

He is beautiful.

"Could she see?" Loki asks, voice distant. Detached. "Could she see me?"

And at last, Loki turns to him, the reflection melting back as his hand slips from the glass.

"Is my ugliness so apparent brother?" He continues. "Through even my strife to appear as from the sun?"

Thor feels his heart sink, taking another step closer, hand reaching out.

"Loki, you are not ugly." He says, scarcely able to believe the words coming from the younger gods mouth, Jane's words echoing back to him the same.

"_Yeah, but Thor, if his self-esteem is as bad as you say it is, it doesn't matter how good looking he is. He won't be able to see that_."

Loki stares at him a long moment, blinking, a wash of tears streaming down his face, before finally he turns away again, staring back at his reflection.

"Or perhaps it is the deceit of me which now begins to grow obvious." He says, as though he hasn't heard Thor at all. "They say I am the god of lies. Loki of the Silvertongue. And yet it is I who was tricked most thoroughly. Thine need tell no lies when thine is the lie itself. I am a falsity. And so perhaps I am no god of lies, but lies the god of me? And what lesser to trust than the embodiment of a lie itself? Could she see me then? Could she see I am a lie? And so swept her child back from me for the fear of my inherent artifice corrupting his very soul?

Is it so obvious, this terrible thing I am? Does it so define me, so control me that I deceive myself in my intent? I had thought… I had thought I did right by the boy. I had thought I did him well. And yet, there the fear in his Mother's eyes. She saw the depravity of me, more well than I could see it myself. She saw my intentions impure, when I had convinced myself of their purity."

He falls forward, elbows slipping, cracking against the porcelain bowl of the sink as he lifts himself higher on his knees, staring at himself still.

"I know not what good is Thor." He says, and there is a desperate hitch to his voice. "I understand it not. So low my comprehension of it that my attempts at its doing spawns only greater destruction and misery. For those I try to help, I hurt twice as many more. I can make only a mockery of what is good in my woeful and twisted attempts in imitating true good in you. I am… I am broken brother."

He reaches up, hand twisting round the still rushing faucet, crushing in, the metal twisting and bending underneath the pressure.

"I am a failure." He goes on, the hiss of stopped water filling the space, seeking a way free. "And she could see. The mother could see. There is only sickness in me. No good. Only my demented imaginings of it. A little gods desire to defy his very nature, and it comes out only a twisted perversion of what he strives for. What he wishes he could be, but never, ever can for it being not what he is. No matter how he _hates_ what he is. I cannot be good Thor. Though I wish it so with every fiber of my being. I cannot be. And she could see. She could see… No matter how I wish it, in me there resides nothing of goodness at all. Nothing of it…"

The room falls into silence, only then the sound of hissing and trapped water.

Thor watches as his brother's strength seems to give out, and he sinks lower, until his arms hang low off the sinks lip, his head bowed below it, legs folded beneath him entirely.

And a sickening ache twists the thunder gods heart.

He steps towards Loki, closing the rest of the distance, reaching a hand out, touching tentatively to the younger princes back.

Loki does not react.

Thor's face falls is pain.

"Loki," he whispers.

And now he is sinking too, slowly to his knees beside his brother, his other hand reaching forward, taking Loki's bony elbow, holding it gentle.

"Loki," he repeats, staring intently at him.

There is only the sound of hissing and trapped water.

Thor waits a moment, stretching on and seeming forever. Until it ends.

He pulls Loki's arms from the sink, reaching up and pushing his hair back, cupping his hand to the back of the smaller gods head as he turns him.

Loki will not meet his eyes.

"Loki," again he says. And now he continues. "Loki, she sees you not. She sees you _not_."

There comes no response, and Thor's face lines in hurt.

But still he goes on.

"Loki, I understand not all that you say." He says. "My mind has ever been too dull to grasp fully your every meaning. But some things I do comprehend. Some things I see."

He grips tightly to Loki's arm, bringing his other hand to his face, pushing the knuckle of his index finger below his brothers chin, lifting him until he can meet his eyes.

Thor near has to look away for the sorrow he sees in them.

He does not.

"Some things I see." He repeats quietly. "_You_ I see brother. And _she _does _not_."

His voice is firm.

Loki is silent.

Tears further slip from his eyes.

Thor brushes one from his cheek.

"You believe no good resides in you Loki." He says. "And yet, you profess your desire to see good done. Your every action, those even which have been ill-executed and strayed you down the wrong path, even _those_ Loki have been conceived with goodness in your heart, with purity of intent and well meaning ends. Do you not see? Your _wish_ to do good proves beyond doubt the goodness _in you_. You have only… you have only been lost in your way sometimes. Only confused as how best to show it, to perform it. But it is there. As it has _always _been. You need perhaps only a small sort of help. Of guidance."

And now Loki is looking at Thor with so much hope in his eyes.

So much desperate hope.

It breaks Thor's heart.

He takes his little brother by the face, cupping his cheeks gently.

"Loki, let me see you." He says.

There is puzzlement in Loki's gaze.

"Let me see you as you really are." Thor clarifies his meaning.

And puzzlement turns to fear.

Loki tries pulling his head free.

"No Thor…" he chokes, looking away.

But Thor holds him fast.

"It is alright brother." He says softly, bringing his face back to him. "It is alright. Please. Let me see you as you really are."

Loki's eyes are cast down.

For a long moment, he says nothing.

Thor waits.

"… I am hideous." He finally hears the strangled whisper.

The thunder god shakes his head.

"Let me see Loki, and I will judge for myself."

Loki's eyes close, another tear slips down his cheek.

And Thor feels him trembling now.

"Please brother…" he urges one time more.

Long, tense moments.

And suddenly the white of Loki's skin is melting away, the smoothness of it vanishing, and slow, like spreading ice, blue takes its place, deep and shaded many, like a lake frozen over, trapping the cold and darkness beneath, the markings of royal lineage, etched deep and scarred along the surface.

Thor holds his face, eyes lingering, taking in the unchanged features of it. It is Loki, beneath the cold. It is Loki.

And Thor lets his eyes drop, traveling over his long neck, to the bit of his chest exposed above the v-shaped cut of his shirt, taking in the great evenness of the blue, how it spreads perfect to the rest of him. And the lines of heritage curl down from below his ears, down the sides of his throat, stretching to his chest and disappearing beneath thin, white cloth.

Thor feels sure the patterns must grow more intricate along the rest of Loki's torso, and his eyes travel down his thin arms, seeing the markings stretch the length of them, to his hands, spreading out over his knuckles, to between his fingers.

And he reaches out, taking his brother by the hands, grasping round them tight.

Loki's skin is cold.

It has always been cold.

Like touching ice.

And Thor knows, if he wished it, Loki could turn it cold enough to burn.

But he does not.

Thor looks back to his face.

"Open your eyes." He says.

Loki does not.

"Open your eyes for me brother." Thor repeats, patient.

And finally, slowly, Loki does, blinking rapidly and scared, gaze cast down.

"Look at me." Thor commands gently.

And gradually, Loki's eyes lift.

Red.

Red as blood.

Red as the beating heart of a star. Flecks of golden sunlight, rings of fire, dancing round the edges.

Thor sees Loki in those red eyes.

He sees his brothers gaze, the same as he has always known, looking back at him.

There is nothing changed.

And Thor smiles as he says in a voice soft as air.

"You are beautiful Loki."

And Loki looks away.

Thor leans forward, his forehead finding his brothers own, resting against it.

He repeats himself.

"You are beautiful."

And they fall in silence.

For a long time, they sit there still, no words more passing between them.

Thor holding tight to his little brother as he trembles in his hands.

And Thor thinks.

He thinks of how he can make this alright.

He thinks of how he can fix this.

And eventually, it comes, and his lips pull up in a smile as he whispers aloud…

"I think I may have a solution to our recent troubles."

Loki's eyes open, their heads still rested together.

"For how we may remain safely on Midgard." He hears Thor go on. "And how you may channel the goodness in you best."

And Loki leans back.

And he is looking at Thor.

He is looking at Thor with so much hope in his red, red eyes.

/

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last week! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reviews are always appreciated.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20:**

"No! Oh, _hell_ no. Are you out… are you out of your _mind_? I mean, have you literally _lost it_, somewhere up there, in all that _space_? Because if that's the case, maybe we can, _I don't know_, help you _find_ it, and you can just forget you ever brought this _insane_ idea of yours up in front of _any_ of us. We'll even do you a solid and pretend you didn't either, and we can all go back to being best buds again. Hmm? Whatdoya say Point Break? Huh? Whatdoya think? Sound like a plan? Good? Got it. _Great_."

Tony Stark is rambling.

Rambling more so than usual, in any event.

They're sure he's been talking nonstop for the last ten minutes, at least, none of the rest of them able to get a word in edgewise.

Thor, in particular, looks utterly bemused, leaning back in his chair, watching as Tony paces restless, back and forth, gesticulating wildly, voice rising and falling in what can be described as an almost comical ebb and flow.

"Stark!" Natasha at last loses her patience, snapping his name angrily, and Tony comes to a halt, glancing up at her, blinking as though he'd lost complete track of the fact there were other people in the room.

"What?" He snaps back.

"You're _rambling_." She says, narrowing her eyes.

"Yeah?" He asks. "And so what if I am? You see some _other _response I should be having? Should I just sit here all calm like, like the _rest _of you seem to be doing, while _Thunderstruck_ over here suggests we take in and harbor public enemy numero _uno_? You know, the self same guy who Fury informed us just a DAY ago escaped custody from the Hellicarrier with HIM." He points angrily at Thor. "Nearly taking the whole damn aircraft out in the process, by the way! Did we just conveniently forget we nearly got killed _ourselves _trying to take that lunatic down less than a _week_ ago? I mean, I thought I was the reckless one in this outfit, but woo, just the fact you guys are willing to LISTEN to this garbage tells me you lot are a lot more fucked in the head than I could _ever _b…"

"TONY!" Steve cuts him short, voice rising uncharacteristically. "Would you SHUT UP?"

The shock of it is enough to momentarily make Tony do just that, and Natasha takes the opportunity to gesture to Thor, urging him to continue.

Thor exhales in relief, pushing a hand back up through his hair, nodding in return, smiling weakly.

"Thank you Lady Ramanov." He says gratefully, pausing a moment before going on.

"My friends…" he begins carefully, spreading his great hands out on the table before him, daring to spare a glance at Tony, who is standing now with his arms crossed over his chest, frowning deeply at him.

The thunder god glances away, making the mistake of letting his eyes fall over Barton, who hasn't yet said a word, but who looks to be on the verge of committing mass murder on an unprecedented scale.

Thor looks away, trying to ignore the looks as he lets his gaze focus between Steve and Natasha, who seem to be the only ones even remotely willing to hear him out.

"My friends," he begins again. "I am aware the request is an unusual one…"

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." Tony disrupts sarcastically.

He shuts up again when Natasha shoots him a scathing glare.

Thor frowns.

"I know my request places you in the unfavorable position of having to disobey your commanding generals, should you so choose to grant what I ask of you. But please, know that I ask with only the greatest humility in my heart, and it is for both my brother _and_ myself that I pray your kindness and consideration. We have no place else to go."

"Fuckin' tough." Clint finally speaks up. "Why the hell are you even _here_ Thor? Wasn't that douche bag piece of shit brother of yours supposed to be back on whatever planet it is you come from, getting the snot kicked out of him for what he did?"

Thor feels himself tense, struggling to not lose his temper.

"I would request you take care how you speak of my brother, Archer." He says softly, though the warning is clear in his tone.

Clint scoffs, seeming un-intimidated.

Thor's frown deepens.

"We were on Asgard for several months." He finally begins again. "During which time, Loki was subjected to a great many forms of punishment. What came tantamount to torture. He has _paid_ for his crimes, and it is not the place of your people, nor within the rights of your Realms jurisdiction to punish him further. Your SHIELD company did wrong my brother by abducting him as…"

"ABDUCTING HIM?" Tony shouts.

"AYE!" Thor shouts back, and his voice shakes the room.

Tony shuts up.

Thor breaths out harshly through his nose, sitting back, trying to calm himself.

He has to handle this with great delicacy, he knows, or he could ruin this chance.

"I am sorry." He apologizes, glancing down. "Please forgive my loss of temper. My brother and I have been through much since we left our own Realm, and I fear the strain is beginning to wear me thin."

There is a moment of stunned silence, Thor trying desperately to compose himself before he at last glances up again, and continues.

"I could not leave Loki in Asgard." He says. "Our Father was beyond reason in his punishments, cruel to Loki in a way I never thought him capable of. Though I believe him to have thought his course of action correct, I could not abide it any longer. He was not helping Loki to understand the wrongs he had committed, or to heal from the pain which had driven him to such acts initially."

There is a scoff from somewhere around the table.

Thor only narrows his eyes, refusing to acknowledge it, and going on.

"You would understand better, my friends, if you had witnessed yourselves the tortures which Loki has endured. He has suffered much. And while I do not use his suffering as a condoning of his past actions, I ask that you at least leave yourselves open to consideration of how it might have led him astray. He is willing to forgive your actions against him…"

"Wait. _What_?" This time it's Bruce who interrupts. "Willing to forgive _us_? You can't be serious. The guy who blew up half of Manhattan, killed _countless_ people in the process, nearly killed all of us the other day. And he's willing to _forgive_ us? That's rich. You know? That's really…"

"You did not allow for me to finish, Son of Banner." Thor disrupts back, voice even but edged hard. "And how many countless of your fellow mortals have you killed in your episodes of uncontrolled rage?"

Bruce's eyes go slightly larger, staring back at the thunder god, brow furrowed in strain.

He says nothing.

Thor looks round the table.

"How many lives are _each_ of you responsible for the taking of? You condemn my brother for the taking of life. But all of us here have killed in the belief that to do so was right, and for reasons lesser, for nothing greater than following command. And I sit before you today to tell you Loki was no different in his beliefs, wrong though they may have been. He thought himself to be doing your world a _service_. He understands now the fault of his thinking. But he is not some entity of evil, as you make him out to be. He saw in you a warring and violent race, at constant odds with one another, and he sought then to unify you under a single leader, as we are in Asgard, in the notion it would bring eventual peace to your Realm. He sought to be a _good_ King, in a misguided attempt to give himself purpose and to put an end to the discord of your Realm."

Thor pauses, looking to each of them.

"You accept my companionship, and yet I can assure you this day, I have been responsible for deaths a thousand times the count of my brother. I have been in the greater number of battles than he by far, and I have traveled to and invaded lands upon which I sought unprovoked confrontation and slaughtered _hundreds_ who, in retrospect of my actions, did not deserve such an end. Will you condemn and so banish me too then? Or is it only for your own kind you seek justice?"

There came no response, and Thor nodded.

"As I was saying," he starts once more. "my brother is willing to forgive your actions against him, and he prays without expectation of hope that you are willing to forgive his actions against _you_. He does not think you will. He does not believe he _deserves_ your forgiveness, even. But he prays for it just the same. And he is willing to do all he can to thusly _earn_ it. If you would but give him the chance."

The room then falls into silence, the whole of the team staring back at Thor, each of their faces moved into varying expressions.

For a long while, no one says anything, and Thor feels his heart sink, thinking they are going to reject his proposition outright, and that he and Loki truly will be forced to leave Midgard and not return. That he will be forced to leave Jane behind and never…

"So where is he?"

The silence is suddenly broken by Tony's impatient voice.

Thor looks to him.

"Do pardon?" He asks.

"Where's Loki?" Tony repeats, arms crossed. "Cause, ya know, we might actually like to _talk_ to the little snot before we _decide_ anything life altering or otherwise potentially hazardous."

"That's a good point, actually." Steve steps in, leaning forward, hands folded on the table. "We can't make a judgment call about your brother until we hear him out ourselves. Much as we like and trust you Thor, you have to understand. What you're asking is a lot. Loki is a _war criminal_. Classified as an _international_ security threat by SHIELD. We can't just accept him into the team because you say he's changed his ways and wants to group hug."

Thor smirks.

"I think you will find my brother repelled should any of you attempt to embrace him."

Nobody laughs, and Thor sighs, nodding.

"I understand." He finally says. "Loki said to me as much, and he is willing and even desires to speak with you himself. But we must first have your sworn word that you are willing to listen to what words he has to say, and that you will not in any way attack him, or otherwise deceitfully inform your company of his being here."

"We'll hear him out Thor." Steve says. "But we can't promise we won't defend ourselves if he gives us cause to. If he attacks us, we're going to fight back."

Thor nods again.

"I understand. But you needn't concern yourselves. He will not give you cause to react so."

"Good." Steve nods. "So long as we have an understanding. We won't worry about him if doesn't give us a reason to, and he doesn't have to worry about us unless he does something stupid."

"You will find my brother rarely acts in ways one would consider _stupid_." Thor says defensively.

"Whatever." Tony says. "So where is he?"

Thor glares at him a moment, frowning, before he answers carefully.

"He is here." He says plainly.

He doesn't miss the looks of worried surprise which flicker across all of their faces.

"_Here_?" Tony snaps after a moment. "What do you mean _here_? You mean in the _building_ here? You mean waiting out in the _guest lobby_ here? Jarvis…" he doesn't wait for Thor to answer. "is there anyone in the building who isn't _supposed_ to be?"

"No, Sir." The disembodied voice answers from somewhere above them. "My sensors indicate no unemployed or uninvited persons currently within the premises'."

Tony frowns, looking back to the thunder god.

"So what the hell Thor?" He asks again. "What do you mean he's _here_? You mean he's in the _area _or something?"

Thor looks back, face un-amused, silent a moment before he answers.

"He stands between the shadows." He says, without further explanation.

The blank expressions across the team's faces tell him they don't understand.

"_English_ Thor." Barton says. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Thor's eyes shift to the archer only a brief moment, before he moves his gaze to Steve.

"I have your word then you will not attempt to harm my brother in any way?" He asks.

Tony's mouth comes open to say something, but Steve cuts him short.

"You have our word Thor, so long as he doesn't try to hurt us."

Thor nods.

"Very well then." He says. "You may come out now Loki."

And the whole of the team stares gape mouthed and stunned as before them, the very air seems to split open, shadows which had before been invisible to them peeling back and away, melting back into the light as they roll away from the shape of a man.

And very suddenly, Loki is standing there, beside Thor, dressed in his full, Asgardian armor, well kept and shinned to an almost blinding reflection. He is looking back at them, face passive.

Tony's eyes are nearly wide as saucers, and he starts for a moment. Then stops. Then starts again, his arms throwing wide.

"What the hell!" He shouts. "Security breach! Jarvis, _security breach_! I thought you said no one was here who wasn't _supposed_ to be!"

"My sensors indicated no intruder presence, Sir." The AI answers smoothly.

"Well your sensors suck." Tony shoots back.

"They are your design, Sir." Jarvis replies.

Tony's mouth comes open, as though to say something in return. But then promptly closes as he realizes he has no argument.

"Beside the point." He goes on after a moment. "Security breach." He points at Loki. "How the hell did you get in here without Jarvis knowing about it?"

Loki is looking up towards the ceiling now, brow furrowed as he tries to locate the source of the AI's voice.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, and Tony feels himself ready to lose his shit.

"Hey, Pretty Pretty Princess, I'm _talking_ to you." He snaps.

And finally, Loki looks down, eyes fixing on the man. His expression remains flat.

"I have been here with Thor the entire duration of his visit." He says.

"That's great." Tony says. "But you didn't answer my question. How did you get past Jarvis' security sensors?"

Loki narrows his eyes, frown tugging at his lips.

"Your machine cannot find me between the spaces of your reality." He says simply, as though it should be obvious.

There is an awkward silence.

"… _What_?" Tony finally snaps.

And Loki sighs.

"The space between shadows is separate from the plane we now stand upon." He replies. "Though it occupies the same area."

He receives only blank stares, and his frown deepens.

"You understand not." He says.

"No shit." Clint says harshly. "You're talking a bunch of nonsense."

Loki's eyes flash to him.

"You claim it nonsensical only for your inability to grasp the concept." He says quietly.

Clint's teeth clench as he leans forward, feeling himself tense.

"You know what…" he starts.

"Look!" Steve steps in, wanting to cut off any escalating hostility, though Loki looks entirely unaffected. "Can we just… _drop_ how he got into the building, and talk about what we're _here_ to talk about? Mainly," he looks to the trickster god, whose arms have folded over his chest, eyes locked still on Barton. "the proposal by Thor to consider Loki's addition to the team. Loki,"

Loki at last peels his eyes from the archer, looking to Rogers.

"Yes Captain?" He asks smoothly.

"We understand you're interested in maybe becoming a member of our team." Steve says.

Loki nods.

"Indeed." He replies. "If my offered service to your cause would be deemed acceptable and appropriate recompense for my past offense, I should like very much to, as you say, become a member of your team."

"He's just trying to get SHIELD off his back." Bruce spoke up. "From what I hear, they did a real number on you when they had you in custody, and now you're trying to avoid it happening again. Why? Because you're scared?"

Loki turns to the scientist, regarding him a long moment.

"I am not fearful of your commanding outfit." He says after a time, voice even. "Though I will not deny my wish to remain with my brother upon this Realm, it is not as you say. I desire as greatly to make amends for the wrongs I have brought against your people, and Thor has explained to me you may consider the lending of my talents to your cause as suitable means."

"Why should we trust you?" Natasha finally makes herself heard. "Like you said to me back in Paris, you're the _god_ of lies. What makes you think we should or even _could _trust you?"

Loki glances to her.

"I do not expect you should." He replies evenly, unflustered. "I expect I should have to earn your trust."

"And how're you gonna do that, Rock of Ages?" Tony starts. "You remember last time we met, you almost _killed _us."

And now Loki's expression shifts, a sly smirk coming over his lips.

"Can it be the Man of Iron admits to anxious uncertainty?" He asks mockingly. "You of such boastful confidence? You are not _afraid _of me, are you Stark?"

"Listen here, you degenerate cree…"

"ENOUGH!" Steve jumps in, slamming his fist on the table. "Everyone! Just… cool it!"

All eyes turn to the Captain.

He breaths out slowly, trying to calm himself.

"Okay?" He asks after a moment.

He's met only with silence.

"Loki," he starts again, glancing a moment at Tony, giving him an unspoken warning to keep quiet. And then he looks back to the god. "It's a fair question. How do you plan on showing us we can trust you? Because right now, I hate to say it, but we don't have any reason to."

Loki nods.

"I will do battle at your sides." He replies. "I will act as shield companion to you all, and fight most bravely against those you would call enemy. I will do so until you have grown to rely upon and trust in my aide without hesitation and then…"

"And then you'll stab us in the back?" Bruce says, eyebrows rising.

Loki turns cutting eyes on him, face hard, and Bruce actually feels himself tense in discomfort.

A moment passes in silence, and then Loki continues.

"And then _beyond_," He goes on, voice clipped. "I will continue to do the utmost in proving your earned trust well placed after it has been so. But I can do so only if you grant me such opportunity to. You see? I cannot prove the worthiness of your trust in me until I am in such a position to do so. Whether that position is so granted me or not is entirely to your discretion."

Silence settles back over the room then, for a time, no one saying anything.

And then it's Natasha again.

"Even if we do decide to let you join Loki, which I'm not saying we will, but if we do, it's no guarantee that SHIELD is going to approve, or back off you."

"But my brother will have your support." Thor speaks now. "And so your protection. You will vouch for him if he gives you reason to, and your influence within your company is great. Yes?"

Bruce shrugs.

"I guess. But if Fury gets a bug up his ass about it, there's no telling what he'll do."

"Would not Loki's loyalty to you be considered loyalty to SHIELD as well?" Thor asks.

"It should be." Steve replies. "But like Bruce said, right now, we're under orders to notify Fury right away if we get any kind of lead on Loki. The fact we haven't is already disobeying of orders. Something Fury won't be happy about."

"I trust in your ability to make your Director see reason then." Loki smiles easily. "If you determine worth in my companionship to you, I will leave the position of my regard with Fury in your capable hands."

"You're willing to put that kind of trust in _us_?" Clint asks suspiciously. "We could rat you out and tell Fury to come and arrest your ass while you're sleeping."

Loki continues smiling.

"I fear I have little choice in the matter." He says. His smile widens to a grin. "Though you may find it more difficult than you realize to take such advantage of my slumbering state."

"We'll have to discuss this." Steve says after a moment. "Alone."

Both Thor and Loki nod.

"And just to make clear, if we do let you on the team, you'll be expected to live here, in the tower. We'll want to keep an eye on you."

Again, Loki nods.

"This seems acceptable." He says.

"This is insane." Barton mutters.

"Cool it Clint." Steve shoots.

And the archer mutters something else under his breath.

No one else hears what he says.

Thor and Loki do.

/

**AN: Hey everyone. So, the Avengers reenter the picture! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last one. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21:**

They decide to let him join.

Though it takes nearly two hours deliberation before they're able to put it to a vote. And even then, they'd been evenly divided. Three against three.

Clint had been utterly unwilling to budge in his stance against, and it seemed so too had Bruce and Tony. Thor was obviously already accounted for.

Steve and Natasha had eventually ended up able to convince Bruce and Tony of their position by reminding the two that Loki was, apparently, far more dangerous than they had previously believed him to be, and allowing him to join would at least afford them the opportunity to keep an eye on the trickster god.

"_Better than having him running around out there doing God knows what and acting as our enemy_." Natasha had said.

And they hadn't really been able to argue against that.

No one said it outright, but the thought of having someone against them as powerful as Loki very clearly _was_, it was more than a little disconcerting.

They were beginning to realize it would be no different, truly, than making an enemy of Thor. And Thor now seemed so unfailingly loyal to his brother, they couldn't be sure that wouldn't in fact happen, were they to turn Loki away.

When they'd finally called the two gods back into the conference room, it had been Steve who'd gone to fetch them. And when he'd opened the door to the waiting room outside, it was to find Loki whispering into Thor's ear, Thor laughing suddenly, loud and boisterous before reaching over and shoving against Loki's shoulder, the smaller god himself then beginning to laugh.

The sight struck the super soldier as… odd.

Everything about them… everything he'd heard about their world and their culture and just the very idea that these two were what he could only think of as _aliens_ from another planet, he wouldn't call them gods because that was blasphemy, it all had seemed so overwhelmingly serious, so heavy in consequence and repercussion.

He hadn't thought of Thor and Loki in the actual, defining terms of what it meant to be _brothers_. He had more regarded it as he might have when referring to the soldiers he'd led back in the war. They were his brothers, in a way, but the relationship had always been strictly professional and, to an extent, detached.

It had had to be that way, or he would have drowned in his own sorrow each time he lost a man.

Seeing Thor and Loki though… horsing about, as his Mother had used to call it between him and Bucky, it occurred to him that, yes, these two really _were_ brothers, and in the weirdest sort of way, it made them suddenly more… relatable.

Though he was certain the feeling would end there.

They were otherwise so completely foreign to him.

It takes a long, few moments, and Loki notices him first.

Though when his eyes shift and look up, Steve feels distinctly as though Loki hadn't _noticed_ him at all.

That he'd always known he was there.

Only just now he had decided to acknowledge his presence.

Steve clears his throat, and he doesn't know why he feels nervous.

Thor looks up then.

"Uh, we're… we're ready for you." He says.

And the two gods stand.

They're incredibly tall.

Steve isn't sure why he's just now realizing that.

He's used to being taller than everyone around him, these days.

Standing by them… it makes him feel like he used to…

Before the serum…

They say nothing as they enter back into the conference room.

Steve moves to retake his seat, the others all with their eyes fixed ahead.

Thor and Loki this time both remain standing,

A heavy silence falls over the place.

Loki's shifting is too subtle for any of them to notice as his hand finds Thor's elbow, long fingers wrapping tight above the joint.

A precaution.

He can see from their faces they've already agreed in allowing him to join their ranks.

They're unease in the decision is perhaps more apparent, though. And should he have to, Loki will spirit he and Thor away in an instant.

Humans can be of such fickle mind, he's noticed.

Steve breaths out, unsteady, hands folding, fingers lacing together over the table as he fixes the two gods with a pointed stare.

"So, we've decided Loki can stay."

The grin which spreads across Thor's face is bright as the sun, and he turns to Loki, giving it to him.

Loki's reaction is decidedly more reserved.

He doesn't let go of Thor's elbow, his face blank.

And Thor turns back to the team.

"Friends," he says loudly, affectionately. "you will not regret this decision."

"You better hope not." Tony says flatly, eyes fixed on Loki.

Steve shoots him a glare, holding it a moment before going on.

"They'll be certain rules we expect your brother to follow Thor." He says, turning his attention back to the two gods.

"Aye," Thor nods. "we understand."

"Does _he _understand?" Bruce asks, nodding towards Loki.

"Perfectly well." The trickster at last speaks, voice unmoved.

Steve nods.

"That includes following orders when given." He says. "And no _lies_. Your private life is yours. We don't expect that you share everything with us. This is a _job_. But like we already agreed to, you live and operate out of this building, and we expect a certain level of professionalism out of you in return. Anything related to the job, or to a mission, anything that does or has the potential to involve _any _of us, you _tell us_ about it. And you tell us the _truth_."

Loki wants to smirk.

As if the mortals could ever tell when he was _lying_, he thinks amusedly.

But he keeps the expression from his face, if only for Thor's sake, instead nodding in compliance.

He'll lie when he needs to.

Lies are essential to the survival of any race.

And all of humanity relies upon such.

He understands not the stigma attached by man to the concept.

So long as it brings no, actual harm. Lies, in truth, are sometimes necessary in sparing harm.

He plans not on betraying anyone.

… Does not wish to.

He sees not though why a good bit of mischief should be entirely off-limits.

Steve is saying something now about assigning them rooms to stay in, and Thor is requesting that their quarters be placed on the same floor, and beside one another.

"You sure you two princesses don't want to sleep in the same bed together?" Tony remarks snidely.

Loki's eyes turn to him, cocking his head to the side, expression questioning.

"If so necessary." He says.

Tony stares gape mouthed at him a moment.

"… Uh, I was _joking_." He says at last, not bothering to cover the unease from his voice.

Loki shrugs.

"Thor and I have shared many a bed together. If you have not adequate space to provide us separate chambers, it will not prove an issue."

Tony frowns, face pulling in greater disturbance.

Loki's brow furrows.

"Something troubles you?" He asks.

"Yeah, like, that's totally _gay_." Clint shoots suddenly, drawing Loki's attention to him.

His expression is only further confused.

"… Gay?" He asks. "I fail to realize the connection."

Thor clears his voice nervously, recalling Jane's explanation of the words meaning on this Realm.

"It is not as you… perceive it." He steps in.

Loki glances at him.

"Loki and I shared a bed as children. And we have found ourselves on many a journey and adventure in which we had but a single space to lay both our heads."

Loki stares at him a long moment before his gaze shifts back to the team, a near imperceptible frown pulling at the corners of his lips.

"… Is such a custom considered so odd on Midgard?" He asks, genuinely curious.

He cannot imagine the reason for why it should be regarded so, but each Realm is different in its code of standards, he supposes.

"Well I guess there's nothing wrong with sleeping with another dude." Clint goes on. "But when that other dudes your _brother_…"

The puzzlement didn't move from Loki's features.

"There's nothing wrong with it." Steve begins suddenly. "It's just, uh, here on Earth, people who sleep together are usually… you know…" he swallows thickly, face flushing slightly. "you know, _together_."

"Together?" Loki questions. "You mean comrades?"

"We mean _lovers_." Clint says.

Loki blinks, an actual look of surprise coming over his face, brows rising.

Thor looks down, body tensing.

His friends do not understand. It is nothing of the sort they are suggesting.

But Jane's questions regarding his brother's sexual interests keep sounding in his mind, and this is far from the ideal place to address them.

An awkward few seconds of silence falling over the room.

And then suddenly, Loki laughs.

Thor glances up at him, frowning.

"How absurd." Loki says. "To share ones bed is not to share ones body. A senseless assumption, and a clumsy, lazy mingling of different expressions of intimacy. You mortals are wont to such curious and oft witless notions."

For a moment, everyone gawks.

Silent.

And then Tony frowns.

His expression quickly shifting into anger.

And he stands, taking a step towards the god.

"I'm sorry," he started, voice laced with sarcasm. "did you just say witless? You do realize you're talking to a _genius_, don't you?"

Loki smirks.

"Ah, yes." He says, sounding amused. "The standard by which you measure your intelligence against the rest of your fellow mortals. Beside them, you may find yourself exceptional. And yet, on Asgard, your intellect would rate, at best, just _barely_ above average."

Tony scoffs, brows rising.

"And you're so smart?" He asks, incredulous.

"I am." Loki nods simply. "In a way beyond your own ability to comprehend."

Tony laughs, astonished at the gods arrogance.

Even by his own standards, it seems extreme.

"Oh yeah?" He says. "Then let's see you become an expert in thermonuclear physics in one night."

Loki scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I already have learned myself thoroughly in _every_ sort and form of your Midgardian mathematical and scientific theory. Much of which, I did note, to be based purely on assumption, and too constrained by the limits of your kinds marginal capacity of imagination and weaker brain function. So thusly, largely _incorrect_. You cannot grasp beyond that which you cannot see or label, or otherwise relate back to what you already have observed or tested. And what you have observed and tested is so very small as is. You presume the laws of all else in the universe to be governed by the same principles you base your logical processes on, and can fathom not another way or possibility."

Loki's eyes narrow angrily.

"The most complex and involved of your equations are but a mere _child's _distraction in comparison to the intricacies and depth of magical theorem. The most intelligent of your beings can barely even _begin_ to grasp the most basic principles of how such things work, which is why near not a single human being, in the whole history of your existence, has ever shown any capability or potential to wield the energy of the cosmos. Needless to mention then how such energy is _dead_ within most all of you. Does not reside in even the most _infinitesimal _quantities in the cores of the vast majority of you. As well it should _not_. For such energy would be _wasted_ on your kind."

Loki's voice is steadily rising, growing more heated and incensed, hands twisting and clutching to fists at his sides, a vague tremor beginning to work through his thin frame.

His mouth comes open, ready to continue, shifting to take a step closer to Stark. Threatening.

And then there is a heavy hand upon his shoulder, fingers pressing down in warning.

"Brother…"

Loki turns, mouth twisted in a snarl as he stares up at Thor.

"_What_?"

Thor is frowning, brow furrowed in concern as he says, eyes intent, voice soft and gentle…

"It is alright." His other hand comes up, grasping loose along Loki's forearm. "It is alright now brother. You need calm yourself."

Loki stares back at him, face a mask of vibrating fury, sat just below the surface, ready to burst forth. He says nothing.

Thor leans closer, whispering to him.

"Calm yourself now Loki. It is alright. And I am here."

And the room watches, stunned in silence as, suddenly as it had come, the tension drains from the smaller gods frame. His shoulders slumping, features pulling in what can only be described as hurt, forehead lining in some deep, unspoken pain.

He looks away, seeming embarrassed, hands uncurling and coming together, fidgeting.

"I…" he begins, voice near too soft to make out. "I am sorry." He says. "I am sorry, I did not mean…"

He trails off, going silent.

Thor is still grasping his arm gently.

Loki's eyes are fixed on the ground.

He doesn't look up at any of them.

"I should like to be shown to my room now." He says after a long moment, sounding small. "If… if that is acceptable."

"It is fine brother." Thor says, taking him by the hand.

He looks to the Captain, and it takes a long, few seconds for Steve to react, transfixed on the scene, before he starts suddenly.

"Oh, yeah… uh, right. I'll take you to them. Just… just follow me." He says.

Moving past, and towards the door, Thor wraps his arm around Loki's shoulders, drawing him tight against him, his other hand coming to rest atop the younger princes head.

He whispers something against his ear, before the both of them follow like that after Steve, Loki's hand reaching, gripping to Thor's tunic as they go.

It is shaking.

No one in the room says anything for a long time after the two gods have left.

Awkwardly trying to pretend nothing has happened.

Until it is at last, Clint says aloud what all the rest of them have been thinking.

"Man, are we ever gonna regret this shit."

No one says anything else after that.

/

**AN: As always, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! I can never truly express how much I appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed this one, and please let me know what you think.**

**Also, about Loki's rant regarding humans and magic, I'm well aware of individuals such as Dr. Strange and Dr. Doom, but, this does take place in the movie verse, rather than comics, and I'm of the mind that, Loki being a, well, god, wouldn't think too highly of any human's ability to wield magic. **


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22:**

Clint can't sleep.

Nothing new there, except that it's been worse these last two days.

Ever since the _team _had decided to let a mass murdering _lunatic _join their ranks.

He still can't believe it. And he refuses to accept it with a fake ass smile plastered to his face.

He isn't shy about letting his displeasure be known.

The one he can't get over though is Natasha. He doesn't understand why _she_, of all people, would have been anywhere even near receptive to the idea.

She tells him it's a purely strategic move. That she's only agreed to it so that they can keep Loki close at hand, and keep an eye close on him.

But still, Clint can't help feeling something like betrayed about the whole thing.

She knows how he feels about that bastard. About the nightmares he still has…

He's done all he can to avoid the creep, and he's counted his blessings that he hasn't yet run into the god anywhere in the tower.

Whether that's due to _his_ avoidance, or Loki's, he doesn't know. He likes to tell himself that the son of a bitch is hiding from him because he's some kind of coward and knows if they cross paths, he's going to end up with his ass beat beyond recognition.

Clint doesn't listen to the little voice inside his head which tells him Loki could kill him without even breaking a sweat.

Now that he thinks of it though, Clint realizes no one's really seen much of Loki since he and Thor came.

Thor's been around, behaving as his usual boisterous and happy self.

Clint vaguely recalls him saying something about Loki wanting to stay in his room, something else about it being better not to push the other god or try to force him into socializing. That he was still recovering from what SHILED had done to him and would emerge in his own time.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Clint doesn't like how everyone seems to be walking on eggshells around the psycho. Coddling him like some fucking _baby_.

Clint feels like telling everyone that if Loki can't act like he's part of the team, then he doesn't fucking _deserve _to be on it.

But he doesn't.

He keeps his mouth shut. And prays silently that Loki never comes out of his room.

Fucking asshole…

He keeps hoping he'll get called out on a mission by SHIELD so he can put the possibility of actually having to interact with the god from his mind completely.

That's another thing. SHIELD. He feels like he's somehow betraying _them_ now, because everyone on the team except him agreed it would be a good idea to hold off on telling Fury about this little development until everything settled and they could come up with a "suitable" explanation for their direct disobeying of orders.

No, Clint can't sleep.

And he doesn't know how anyone else can either, given what they've got sleeping in the same building, two floors above the rest of them.

Another diva move.

Loki "requested" that he and Thor be put on a different floor from the rest of the team, and Clint still doesn't know why Steve _agreed_ to it.

Loki is fucking _dangerous_, and a liar, and a God damned _master manipulator_, and Clint can't stand how casually everyone else seems to be taking his being around.

He sometimes gets the notion in his head that Loki's cast some sort of weird mind control spell over all of them, and when that happens, he feels physically ill, like he's gonna puke, and he has to sit down somewhere…

He shakes his head, trying to clear it, hand gripping round the center of his bow.

He came down here to stop thinking of this shit, he reminds himself, drawing the string back, holding the arrow steady a moment before loosing it.

It hits its target just off of dead center, a hundred meters away.

He frowns.

His hand is still jacked up from Loki burying his own damned arrow through it a week previous.

With that thought, a shot of anger bursts through his chest, and he reaches back to his quiver, pulling another arrow, snapping it up and letting it go.

And then another, and another, and another.

All is quick succession, all aimed and released in a second flat.

He hits each of his targets almost perfect.

Almost.

And his teeth grind.

He swears, if he sees Loki around, he's going to…

"That is very good."

He spins around, eyes wide in a panic and heart racing painfully behind his ribcage, mouth falling open as his gaze falls over him.

Loki, sitting, more like perched on the topmost section of a chin-up bar, one leg folded underneath him, the other dangling loosely from the edge. And Clint doesn't even know how he's fucking doing it.

The bar is too thin. He shouldn't have that kind of balance.

A moment which feels like forever passes, Loki staring back at him with intent, unnaturally green eyes, before the muscles in Clint's throat decide to start working again, and he chokes out dryly…

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Instinctively he takes a step back, eyes darting around the room momentarily before shifting back to the god, still sitting, still as a stone on that damned bar.

Clint's mind races frantically.

He hadn't even _heard_ the freak come in, and he tries working out in his mind how he could have without him knowing before he remembers suddenly he can _teleport_.

And now he just feels sick.

Loki's brow furrows in seeming curiosity then, and he leans forward slightly.

Clint watches him close, noting with growing dismay how impossibly precise and graceful Loki's movements are. He doesn't look _real_.

And suddenly Clint has the distinct feeling he's being hunted like some fucking prey animal.

He fights the urge to run, standing still as he can, refusing to pull his eyes away.

"I recall this Jesus Christ." Loki says.

Clint blinks, mind confusing.

"What?" He asks, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Fuck, this guy gives him the creeps.

"Though I do not recall him as having the middle name of _fucking_."

The god smirks slightly, and Clint swallows.

Loki goes on.

"He was not a god, as some of your people are wont to believe." He says casually. "Or the son of one." He frowns then, very slightly. "But he had great faith, and great courage as such. He was a man to be admired, and to your kind, perhaps, that is more worth worshipping than a god. A quality of excellence achieved among one of your own, something then attainable… I have always understood then the raising of his status to that of deity."

"Are you fucking crazy?" Clint asks, feeling more uneasy by the moment.

Loki's forehead lines in puzzlement.

"Why should you ask such a thing, little Hawk?"

"You're saying you _met_ Jesus?" Clint shoots, voice thick with indignation.

And now Loki smiles, almost kindly.

"Or perhaps more accurate to say he met me. But yes, we crossed paths one day, while I was visiting this Realm. 'Twas one of my first ventures here, and I was very young yet. I came upon him in a place called Bethlehem, and we talked for a great while. Though I never told him who I was. I quite liked the man, you see, and was not keen on the prospect of injuring his self-belief."

Alright, that was it. Enough of this fucking wacked out conversation.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Clint asks, changing the subject quickly, because even though he wants to tell himself Loki is lying through his fucking teeth, he gets the sickeningly distinct impression that he _isn't_, and that's just too damned hard to wrap his mind around at the moment.

There were alarms in the training room that should have gone off the moment any unauthorized person stepped foot in it.

Loki laughs lightly, as though he's just heard some cute little joke.

"I have my ways, little Hawk." He says softly. "I could not sleep either, and so decided to take my lay of the surroundings."

Clint frowns, feeling his muscles tighten, hand gripping reflexively around his bow.

If the bitch comes any closer, he thinks, he's going to put one right between his pointy little eyes.

"How did you know I was here?" He asks after a moment, voice clipped and cold.

Loki still has that fucking _smile_ on his face, like he knows something no one else does.

"I enquired of Stark's formless servant. Jarvis, is what he is called, yes? I had asked if there were anyone else awake at the hour, and he informed me quite generously that indeed you were the only other conscious soul about the place, and that you were in the "training room". Naturally, I let my curiosity lead me, and so here I sit."

"For how long?" Clint snaps, hating himself for the anxiousness in his voice.

Loki's smile widens to a grin.

"Long enough. You are quite the impressive marksman. I remember that of you…" his voice trails off slightly, the grin slowly fading from his face.

Clint's lip curls in distain, hand gripping tighter.

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" He asks.

Loki nods.

"You should."

Clint scoffs.

"Yeah, sorry bud, but I don't need some Nancy who's probably never even held a bow in his life to tell me that I'm good with the thing. I already _know _I am."

And for the first time, Loki frowns, face showing some sign of displeasure.

"Do not take me for a coward, little Hawk." He says sharply, and all at once, he's dropping down from the bar, landing completely soundless on his feet and standing straight.

It takes every ounce of Clint's resolve not to step back.

"I have seen and fought in more battles than you, in a hundred of your lifetimes, ever could. And though perhaps I am not as skilled as my brother in as vast an array of weaponry, I am more than competent with most any you should place in my hands."

He takes a step closer, and now Clint can't help it. He steps back, shoulders tensing.

Any closer, and he's going to take aim.

"It is with weapons of distance, however, I find my abilities exceptional. Throwing knives and spears and, yes, the bow and arrow. You should take my words as the highest of praise. For I am better with the weapon than are you, little Hawk."

Clint scoffs, and for a moment, all the fear drains out of him, pride pushing it down.

"Nobodies better than me with a bow." He says, voice steady with certainty.

"No man, perhaps." Loki says quickly in reply. "But I am no man."

Clint glares at him.

"You're one smug fuck, you know that?"

Loki's eyes narrow.

"You do not believe me." He says, a note of defensiveness in his voice. "Then allow for me to demonstrate. Lend me your bow."

He holds out a hand, stepping closer.

And Clint steps back, this time raising the weapon, pulling an arrow and aiming.

"Yeah, like I'm gonna give you my only weapon." He spits bitterly. "You must think I'm stupid."

Loki frowns, and slowly, his arm lower, back to his side.

"Hardly," he says. "Though if you attack me, I may have to reconsider the assessment."

"If you attack _me_, it'll show who the real moron is." Clint says back quickly. "How long you think you'll be a part of the _team_ if that happens, huh?"

"Then by your own, impeccable logic, you should realize I intend no such thing." Loki replies smoothly, voice even. "Unless of course you think _me_ of low intellect, which would prove only further your own lack of astuteness."

Clint doesn't budge, bowstring still drawn back, arrow still held at his fingertips.

Loki sighs.

"Very well." He says, sounding almost defeated. "If you do not wish to lend me your weapon, I shall make due with my own."

He waves his hand, and it is abruptly a green glow emits from his fingertips, spreading and lengthening a moment later into a familiar shape.

Clint's eyes go wide, and reactively, he takes another step back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He spits, frame tensing even tighter, still taking aim at the god.

It seems in an instant, Loki is holding a bow of his own, though fashioned in a style much more antiquated than Clint's. He's holding in his right hand an arrow sporting real birds feathers on the end, not the synthetic material on the ends of Clint's.

Loki's expression is bored as he gazes back at the archer.

He smiles softly.

"I wish to demonstrate for you my skill with the bow," he says smoothly. "so that you might better appreciate the value of my compliment to you."

Clint says nothing, eyes locked on the god, face hard with distrust.

"If you will kindly lower your weapon and step aside, so that I may take aim at one of the targets…?" Loki says after a moment, brows raised slightly.

"Why should I trust you?" Clint asks angrily.

For a long, few seconds, Loki's brow furrows in seeming thought.

And then he shrugs.

"Perhaps you should not." He replies. "But since the both of us know as well as the other that your insistent aggression will gain you nothing but your likely humiliation, I see no reason why you should persist in this hostility. If I so wished it, I could have you disarmed in less then an instant. At least in this, you have the illusion of choice, keeping your dignity if tact."

He smiles ruefully, and Clint wants to shove an arrow through his fucking _eye_.

_Asshole_…

A few seconds more, he holds his ground.

And as at last he lowers his bow, he tells himself it's just precautionary, what any good Agent would do, not taking any unnecessary risks. And that he knows Loki is full of shit, that he couldn't _really_ disarm him or anything like that.

Even though he knows he's really not, and that he really _could_.

_Fucking_ asshole…

Loki says nothing as Clint steps out of the way, but there's a _smirk _on his lips as he finally hefts his bow, taking aim at the very target Clint had last hit, pulling the arrow back tight against the string.

He glances at Clint then, smirk widening to a grin, and without taking his eyes from the assassin, he lets the arrow loose.

In less than an instant, the tip of it buries deep into the dead center of the target, and in the moment following, Loki has produced another arrow in his hand, pulling it taught and letting it fly, still looking at Clint.

It splits Clint's arrow in two, down the center.

Clint blinks, then frowns.

Then assumes a bored expression.

"Wowww," he says, voice full with sarcasm. "So you can shoot a little. Am I supposed to be impressed?" His arms cross. "I wonder how you'd do with a moving target?"

He glares at Loki a long, few seconds, Loki looking back.

"Jarvis," the assassin calls suddenly. "let's have some discs."

"As you wish, Agent Barton." The AI replies.

And moments later, there is a porcelain disc flying through the air, having shot from a shaft in the ceiling.

Clint raises his bow, pulling an arrow and aiming, letting it loose and hitting the plate as it whisks by, fifty feet in the air above them, a hundred yards away.

Ten more such discs are shot out in succession, and each one, Clint hits dead on, shattering into several pieces.

And the archer turns to Loki then, at last his own lips pulled into a smug smirk.

"Still think you're better than me?" He asks confidently.

Loki smiles in return.

"Undoubtedly." He answers.

Clint frowns.

"Jarvis," the god addresses now. "let us have the same sequence, only increase the rate of flyby by fifty, the speed by the same, and distance by a hundred paces."

"Yes Sir, Mr. Odinson." Jarvis replies.

Loki ignores the AI's error in title, instead choosing to grin devilishly at Barton before the sound of the first disc whizzing through the air turns his head, in an instant an arrow materializing in his hand, and he has it pulled back against the string and flying a moment after, shattering the disc.

And they continue to come, dozens upon dozens of them, so many, so fast, Clint can't even keep track anymore, eyes not quick enough to follow.

Each one meeting its end at the tips of Loki's arrows.

He misses none, the room filling with the cacophonous sound of shattering porcelain. Until the last one is destroyed, and the pieces of ruined plates lay strewn across the floor, covering it in a thick blanket of white, similarly dozens of arrows lying amongst the ruble.

Loki had produced and let loose of them with such speed, Clint had been unable even to really see what he was doing.

And he feels now his heart hammering in his chest, a weird sort of numbness running to the tips of his fingers as he stares back at the god...

The god…

A _god_…

Barton realizes for the first time maybe that's what Loki really _is_.

His discomfort grows exponentially in seconds.

His mouth dry.

He can't see his own face, but he knows it's pulled in an expression of shocked disbelief.

What he just witnessed wasn't _human_.

Not even remotely.

No _man _could do that.

Loki looks at him sidelong a moment, lips pulled up faintly at their corners, before he turns fully to the assassin. And as he begins folding his hands behind his back, the bow is vanished away, along with the strewn about arrows.

The god leans slightly forward, regarding Clint carefully.

"Well then," he begins after a moment. "I presume you now to be sufficiently enough impressed with my abilities to afford my judgment of your own with some consideration."

At first, Clint isn't able to respond, still staring at Loki in frozen astonishment.

And he must realize eventually it's what he's doing, as finally, he tries swallowing, his throat suddenly dry and tight, struggling to pull his thoughts together.

Loki wasn't a good archer.

Clint wouldn't say that.

He wouldn't even know what to _call_ someone like Loki.

Impressed wasn't the right word for himself either.

More like freaked the fuck out.

But he wasn't about to tell Loki that.

At least, not directly.

He wants to punch himself in the face as the next words escape past his lips without him really even thinking.

"… What the hell are you?" He chokes out.

And for a moment, Loki seems to gaze at him in surprise, only a flash of it, before he frowns vaguely, brow furrowing.

He looks angry.

"I am of Asgard." He says, voice snapping hard. "The realm eternal! The land of the gods! And I…"

Abruptly, he halts, his face falling, tension through his frame at once slackening.

He stands there a long, few seconds, and Clint sees the focus of his eyes fade, receding into something lost and distant.

And suddenly Loki is turning from him, moving away.

His head shakes.

"Or I… I was." He mutters softly now, almost soundless.

Again he halts, body stiffening.

"But no, even that is a lie." He goes on after a moment. "I was never Aesir. Only tricked into believing so." He laughs quietly, bitterly. "Imagine then, the trickster god _tricked_." Another, sharp laugh. "Only one of Odin's power and cunning could achieve such a thing. But ever has he been my better in all things."

Clint doesn't move, doesn't make a sound as he watches Loki with growing unease.

It's like he doesn't even realize the archer is there anymore. Like he's begun talking to himself.

"No, I am no more of Asgard than are you, little Hawk." He says, but there is no insult in his tone, no venom. Only defeat now. "I am of Jotunheim. Not a shining city of eternal light, of golden sun and warmth, but of darkness and unending winter and death bringing cold."

His hands curl to fits as his side, head bowing, and Clint can make out the just barely perceptible tremble through his frame.

"Yet even there, I am unwanted. Cast out and shunned by monsters, for a monster so great am I. And so…" he pauses, voice softer. "and so, I am Loki of nowhere. Loki of nothing."

He turns suddenly, and Clint nearly flinches as the god pins him with a hard, unyielding gaze.

"You hate me archer." He says plainly, without emotion, as stating a fact.

Clint doesn't respond.

"You wish to see me suffer as recompense for the wrongs done to you."

Still, Clint says nothing, eyes locked back.

"Then take solace in this, little Hawk." Loki goes on. "I have suffered the greatest of miseries in my too long life, and shall continue thus for all the rest of it, however long that shall be. The misery of aloneness. Of friendlessness, and acceptance indeed of my deserving such.

I realize the reasoning for your shield companions allowing me here is not borne from any desire to befriend, or of any true kindness, though my brother Thor may believe just such. It is from fear, and mistrust, and the strategic logic of keeping an enemy close. I know this, little Hawk. That is my punishment for the wrong of me then. There is no place I belong. No place I ever shall. I am _alone_. So is my fate, and you may feel some satisfaction in the knowledge that he who brought torment upon you goes not without torment himself."

Long moments pass then. No words else exchanged between the two.

Clint stares back unblinking, and Loki the same.

And Clint can feel the rage, bubbling up, burning beneath the surface.

Anger and hatred he's worked so hard these last days to keep in check. To not let loose. He can feel it _screaming_ to get out.

That Loki would think…

That he would _think_…

He feels his hand grip tighter round his bow, frame taught.

"… It's not enough." He chokes out through clenched teeth. "It's…"

Loki sees the movement before Clint even realizes he's doing it.

Bow raised, arrowed pulled and drawn back.

It lets fly, cutting through air.

And Loki vanishes in a puff of green.

The arrow hits the wall and clatters to the ground.

"IT'S NOT ENOUGH YOU FUCKER!" Clint screams, drawing another arrow and shooting at nothing. "NOT UNTIL YOU HAVE SOMEONE PEEL BACK YOUR BRAIN AND CRAWL AROUND INSIDE YOUR _FUCKING_ HEAD! IT'S NOT ENOUGH!"

Again and again, he draws from his quiver, shooting at open space.

Until he has no arrows left, and his body is wrought with exhaustion.

He collapses to his knees, bow slipping from his fingers, crashing to the floor.

He buries his face in his hands.

Doesn't even realize he's shaking.

"… It's not enough." He mumbles too soft to hear. "You haven't suffered enough."

/

**AN: Hey everybody! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! I'm sorry I haven't gotten a chance to get back to all of you on those reviews yet, but I'll do my best to do so this time around.**

**Just a little note, I'm making both Thor and Loki considerably older in this fic than it's suggested they are in the films. I sort of want to line it up more with how old they actually are if you're going by the timeline of Norse mythology. I figure, if their names have been known and mentioned in literature for however many thousands of years, then it would make them at least that old.**

**Also, if any of my readers are Christian, this is not in any way intended as an insult or disregard for your beliefs, or to offend in any way. This is just a piece of fiction, and so I'm taking certain liberties with it, and not necessarily making a statement on the truth, or lack of, in Christ or Christianity. **

**With that said, hope you all enjoyed, and please let me know what you think!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Okay boys and girls! Next chapter, and it's a long one! Hope you don't mind. We'll be going back into the **_**distant **_**past in this one. And just a slight warning, there is a sex scene in this chapter between two men. So if that bothers you, you might want to skip out, though it's nothing graphic, I don't think. **

**Besides that, no real warnings. Hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter!**

**Okay, so, I've edited this chapter, since some of you have an obvious issue with it, being so sensitive, I'm so sorry to have harmed your innocent, virgin eyes. Most of you, you need to log in if you have an issue with my writing, or the content of it, so I can respond to you. Otherwise, you just come across as cowardly. I've removed those reviews from those of you who didn't log in, because I don't have time for your useless spamming of this story if you refuse to let me address you, and none of your criticisms were valid, but just pure hatred.**

**Chapter** **23:**

"_You! Boy!" Thor shouts over, his voice loud and rising above the din of the place, getting the young man's attention immediately. He turns with wide and expectant eyes towards the thunder god._

_Thor smiles, the expression smug as he waves his hand towards himself._

"_Come hither!" He calls._

_And the boy nearly stumbles in his hast to do as he's told._

_Thor laughs, and a moment later, he has his arm around the younger and smaller god, sitting to his left, squeezing him tight against him._

"_Thor!" Loki protests weakly, voice nearly lost in the rest of everyone else's._

_Thor ignores it and begins speaking._

"_You see how they look at us brother?" He asks, gesturing towards the mortals, all sitting or standing away from the long table their party resides at._

_Loki glances around to where his brother indicates, eyes sharp with curiosity._

"_They fear us, do they not?" Thor goes on._

_Loki swallows, says nothing._

"_They know that if we so chose, we might smite them where they stand, and there would be nothing they could do to defend themselves." The elder prince continues._

_Loki frowns._

"… _Is this a good thing Thor?" He asks._

_And again, Thor laughs, loud and clear._

"_Of course little brother!" He announces, as though Loki should already know this, again squeezing him tight. "It is what causes such great hospitality in them whenever we come. Why they are so generous! Though it may be your first time to this tavern Loki, indeed, only your third time at all to Midgard, me and the warriors have frequented this place often, and always are we met with the finest of victuals and ale, and always an offering of warms beds and women. Something, brother, I expect you to take advantage of this night."_

_He looks down at Loki, who is continuing to stare ahead, eyes moving over the crowd in curiosity, seeming lost in thought._

_Thor grins._

"_They know we are gods Loki. And so they regard us as such. Their fear is indeed a good thing."_

_Finally, Loki nods, and again Thor squeezes him to his side._

_A moment later, and the boy has shown up._

"_Yes, my Lord?" He asks in a rough accent._

"_Aye!" Thor says. "You will bring us your two largest and finest pints of Ale, and keep them coming! For tonight is my little brother's five hundredth name day, and he is at last of mature age! Though just barely!" He laughs, and Loki's face flushes slightly._

_He hopes it is not obvious._

"_Yes, my Lord." The boy nods, scurrying off quickly to fetch them their drinks._

"… _I do not wish to drink heavily Thor." Loki says after a moment._

_He plans not on growing inebriated this night, despite Thor's insistence that he must. He has seen how too much alcohol alters the personality. And never for the better. Seen it too many times in his brother, who always grows violent and words challenging and cruel with the drink._

_Loki does not tell him, at those times, he is fearful of the thunder god, for the once, while drunk out of his mind, he had challenged the younger prince to a duel, right in the middle of the feasting hall. _

_Loki had refused, of course, rationalizing and even trying to appeal to Thor's sense of pride, telling him there was no need for such a contest, for Thor was a thousand times the warrior Loki was, and Loki could never hope to win._

_But the intoxication had made Thor belligerent and angry, and he had accused Loki of cowardice before proceeding to attack and beat him before the gathered crowd._

_It had been one of those times Thor had more hurt him physically than put him through mere humiliation, as he did in the training rings, being unaware of his own strength and power while his mind was so incapacitated._

_It had taken many weeks for all of the bruising and the broken ribs to heal fully. _

_Loki was not yet adept in healing magic, and he had refused to seek help out of his shame._

_Thor had not even recalled the incident the next morning, and Loki had known if he had, he would have apologized. _

_Loki knew he had not meant to hurt him._

_He had lied and told the thunder god he had fallen from his horse the night before, and taken a hard landing. Thor had believed it, as Thor believed everything, and Loki was a great liar._

_No one else had ever mentioned the truth, and still, Thor did not know it._

"_Loki, you must!" Thor insists, hand coming to rest atop his brother's dark head, ruffling his hair playfully. "It is one of the great joys in life! To feel the slow warmth of inebriation. Besides all of which, you are too restrained brother. The drink will encourage you to finally loosen yourself."_

_Loki frowns slightly, but he says nothing._

_He will simply magic the ale into water, and Thor will never know, he thinks. He is sure he can ape intoxication well enough to fool the elder prince._

_His eyes scan over the table, taking in the gathering of other gods. At the far end sit the Warriors Three and Sif. _

_Volstagg is eating everything in sight at an alarmingly quick rate, and Loki wonders how there is any left for the rest of them, or how the mortals are able to produce enough food for such voluminous appetites. _

_Sif is sharpening her sword, looking comfortable and cool despite her obvious disinterest in the festivities. Hogun is the same, sipping from his own pint of mead and spinning a long dagger between his fingers._

_Fandral, as always, has a woman on his lap, smiling and charming her to blushing, red cheeks and uncontrollable giggling. _

_The rest at the table are various members of Asgard's elite palace guard, invited by Thor himself to attend._

_Loki has spoken a few times to some of them, most usually out of necessity._

_He knows none of them well._

_He had not known of this party until Thor had dragged him to the Bifrost, trying and failing miserably to trick him into believing their presence to be required at a Parliament meeting on Vaniheim. _

_Loki had suspected for weeks Thor was planning something for his name day, but still, he had groaned in annoyance when they had landed on Midgard, outside this tavern, and the elder god had dragged him inside, to be met with the current scene._

_Loki does not like it here. It is too loud. And it is dirty. And already, everyone is behaving as idiots._

_He does not tell Thor this though._

_He does not want Thor to become angry._

_It is only a few minutes before the boy returns, ale in hand, setting the two, thick mugs down in front of them._

_Thor takes his up and drinks the entirety of it in one go, smashing the cup on the floor and shouting loudly for another._

_Loki only stares at his._

_He has never drunk Ale before._

_He does not want to._

"_You are not simply going to gaze at it all night, are you brother?" Thor begins, noticing. He frowns slightly. "You must drink it!"_

_Loki nods._

"_I will Thor." He says._

_Thor stares at him expectantly, and finally, Loki reaches out, taking up the mug and lifting it to his lips. _

_It smells sweet, and for a moment, the trickster god is tempted to let his tongue taste the liquid._

_But he knows his inexperience and smaller size will not allow for him to hold it well, and so in a near soundless whisper, he speaks the words into the cup which turn the ale to water, and he drinks down half of it in a single try._

_Thor laughs, slapping him hard against the back, nearly knocking Loki out of his chair and causing him to choke on what's still left in his throat._

"_You show promise brother!" He booms. "We will make a fine warrior out of you yet!_

_And Loki smiles, regaining himself as he looks up at Thor._

_He cannot help the warmth which blossoms in his chest at the thunder god's words._

_At what he convinces himself is pride for him in his brother's voice._

_He wants so much for it to be true…_

_/_

_The night grows long, the table louder and more violent._

_Several fights have broken out among the gathered Aesir, furniture and glass broken into pieces._

_Thor has beaten near beyond recognition two guards who, at one point an hour ago, had thrown their empty mugs at Loki, one of them hitting him across the chest, taunting him from across the table, accusing him of witch craft and cowardice and unworthiness of his title._

_The two of them now lay on the floor in a puddle of their own blood and vomit._

_Loki has not looked at them since._

_Time continues, and Thor is slurring his words now, the night passing into the morrow hours, things at last settling into more quiet as the group begins tapering off to their rooms, bringing with them one or more of the mortal maidens. _

_Loki sits still in his seat, watching as Fandral disappears up the stairs and around a corner, three women held on his arms._

_Thor laughs beside him, hand coming down heavy on the younger gods back._

"_Loki, you must choose a maiden to bed!" He announces suddenly, and Loki feels his stomach clench, throat going dry. "There are many fine women to choose from."_

_For several moments, Loki says nothing, hands clenching to fists in his lap._

_His brow furrows._

"_I am tired Thor." He finally says, hoping that will be enough to persuade his brother into letting him be, though he knows inside it will not._

_Thor only laughs._

"_It is only the ale which makes you so brother." He replies. "A beautiful girl will sober you up quickly. You must choose! It is a part of your coronation into manhood!"_

_Loki looks down, frame tensing in discomfort._

_He does not like this._

_He does not know how to say…_

"… _Thor, is it…" he hesitates._

_Thor stares back at him with glazed and puzzled eyes._

_Loki breathes in, letting it go slowly before he continues, working up the nerve._

"_is it not uncivil, to take such advantage of these mortal women?" He finally asks, voice barely a whisper._

"_Uncivil?" Thor questions, voice thick with confusion._

_Loki nods, at last daring to look up at the elder god._

"_Is it not base?" He continues on, forgetting in his concern his act of drunkenness. "Should we not conduct ourselves higher than this? We are gods. What need have we to take in lust mortal flesh?"_

_Thor gapes at him a long, few seconds, face lined in bewilderment._

_For an instant, Loki lets himself hope Thor may actually consider his words._

_May understand what he says._

_But then he laughs._

_Loud and unruly._

_Again he slaps Loki across the back._

"_You jest brother!" He shouts._

_Loki frowns, glancing away._

_The thunder god continues laughing, shaking his head in amusement._

"_Once you have felt the suppleness of a mortal woman's flesh Loki, you will understand the virtues in lying with them. They are so much more pliant than are our women."_

_Loki is silent, and finally, Thor seems to notice his discomfort, frowning deeply._

"_You jest indeed brother," he says. "do you not?"_

"_He jests not." A guard two seats from them answers in place._

_Thor glances up at him, as does Loki._

_The guard is smiling meanly at them._

"_Our young prince knows not what to do with a woman." He goes on._

_And Loki feels his skin burn hot, looking away._

"_He thinks them deserving of more consideration."_

_Thor looks only doubly confused now, staring at the guard a moment longer before turning back to his brother, reaching a hand out and placing it along Loki's shoulder._

"_Brother… is this true?" He asks. "You think them deserving of higher regard?"_

_Loki is silent, eyes still trained down._

_Thor smiles palely. _

"_Loki, you need not concern yourself with it. They are but mortals. They matter not. Here but only for our amusement. They serve no other, real purpose."_

_The guard chuckles._

"_Perhaps Prince Loki wishes to solidify his reputation of strangeness among the Aesir." He says._

"_You will cease your tongue!" Thor snaps back, turning a deadly gaze upon him._

_The guard quickly shuts his mouth._

_Thor glares at him a moment longer before turning again to Loki, leaning in close and speaking quietly to him._

"_Loki," he begins. "the guard is a fool, but he is right in how strange it will look if you refuse to indulge in an offered companion for the night. You _must_ take a woman to bed."_

"_But Thor…" Loki begins to protest, and the thunder god squeezes down harder on his shoulder._

"_Choose a maiden Loki." He says, and there is only command in his voice._

_Loki swallows._

"… _I cannot." The trickster whispers, almost soundless._

"_Then I will choose one for you." Thor says, the anger clear in his voice._

_He looks up, eyes scanning over the women still milling about. He spots one to his satisfaction and calls her over._

_Loki sinks in his seat, mortified._

"_You woman," Thor begins. "you will take my brother to your chambers tonight."_

"_Yes, my Lord." She answers, eyes shifting to the younger prince._

_Thor nods, standing. And as he does, he grabs Loki underneath the arms and forces him to his own feet, shoving him forward gently, towards the woman._

"_Go brother." He demands. _

_And Loki knows better than to argue when Thor is like this._

_He lets the woman take his hand, and he stares down at her curiously._

_At how tiny she is, the top of her head barely meeting the midway point of his torso._

_He thinks surely she will break if he but holds her hand back._

_And so he keeps his fingers loose, and does not look back at his brother as she leads him up the stairs, towards her room._

_He can hear Thor laughing as she takes him inside and closes the door._

_/_

_Loki sits, still and silent along the woman's bed._

_He does not look at her. He looks out the window beside the mattress and frame, towards the sky, and he thinks Thor is right, and the guard._

_He is strange._

_There is something the matter with him._

_He does not know what._

_The woman watches him from across the space, sitting in the room's single chair, hands folded nervously along her lap._

_She has never seen another so still and so quiet as he._

_He is like a statue, and she finds herself uneasy in his presence._

_Worse yet, he has shown no interest in her, and she fears what it should do to her reputation among the gods._

_She swallows thickly, glancing away finally, inhaling deeply before finding the courage to finally speak._

"… _Does… does my Lord find me displeasing?" She asks quietly._

_Loki says nothing, and the woman grows more anxious, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth._

_She tries to think of how she might entice the god._

_Her mind works frantically, becoming lost in thought. And so she is startled when she hears him at last speak, and his voice is so soft, she barely catches the words._

"… _I do not understand this." He says._

_Her brow furrows in confusion._

"_My Lord?" She asks._

_Another, long moment of silence._

_And then Loki repeats himself._

"_I do not understand this." He says, still gazing out the window._

_The woman doesn't understand what he means, and she wishes not to anger him by asking. So she says nothing in return._

_Finally, Loki turns to her, regarding her intently, and she has to look away for the intensity of his gaze._

"_Do you enjoy giving your body as you do?" He asks. The question sounds genuine._

_The woman frowns._

"… _I am not sure of your meaning, my Lord." She answers._

"_Do you wish to lay with me?" He asks. "Is it what you desire?"_

"_I desire whatever it is my Lord desires." She replies._

_Loki frowns._

"_You do not." He says._

_And the woman feels a sense of panic bloom in her heart._

"_My Lord, I…"_

_He shakes his head._

"_It is fear you let drive your answer. But you wish not to lay with me."_

_The woman swallows._

"… _I mean no offense my Lord." She pleads. "I do what is necessary." _

_Loki's brow furrows._

"_Necessary?" He asks._

_The woman nods._

"_The gods must be appeased, my Lord. So that we may be deserving of their protection and good favor."_

_Loki's frown deepens, and he stares at her a long instant, before finally, he looks away again, out the window._

_The room falls into silence once more, and for a long while, they sit like that, neither speaking._

_The woman has nearly nodded off to sleep when Loki's soft voice again drags her from it._

"_What is your name?" He asks._

_Her head snaps up._

"_My Lord?" She asks._

_Loki turns to her._

"_What is your name?" He repeats._

_She blinks, confused a moment, before stammering out…_

"… _G-Greta."_

_And Loki smiles softly._

_She notices then how young he is. _

_He looks barely more than a boy of fourteen to her eyes, maybe fifteen if she was being generous, though very tall he is._

"_Greta." He says her name roundly, as though feeling it on his tongue. "It is a lovely name."_

_She smiles bashfully, glancing away._

"_Thank you my Lord." _

"_Would you like to walk with me outside Greta?" He asks, and she looks up, startled._

"_I… I am sorry?" She asks._

"_We can walk the parameter of your land and gaze upon your sky." He says. "Your stars are so very different from those seen on Asgard. I should like a better look."_

"… _If… if it will please my Lord." Greta responds quietly, eyes again slipping to the floor._

_Loki's smile widens._

"_It would please me much." He answers back, just as hushed._

_/_

_For a while, they walk silently together, side by side, heads leaned back and eyes searching across the deep blue and black expanse above them. The stars show bright and clear against it._

_Loki's hands fold behind his back, the only sound to accompany them that of Greta's shoes along the ground, and the chirping of crickets._

_Loki, she notices, makes no noise._

_She keeps to herself how unnerving it is._

"_I have often studied in books your Midgardian skies." Loki suddenly speaks, and his voice is clear and sharp in the quiet around them. "But the beauty of them can only be found in standing beneath them as this."_

_Greta says nothing, and again, they fall quiet, continuing on._

_After a while, Loki speaks again._

"_The stars of Asgard are much closer than here." He says. "They are present, not of the past, as yours."_

_Greta's brow furrows._

"_My Lord?"_

_Loki smiles softly to himself, still gazing up._

"_Your Realm is very distant from most of the stars visible to you." He explains gently. "So far, that the light you see from many of them is of the past, reaching your eyes only now. You understand, most of your stars have long since perished, and you are seeing only the echo of their existence. On Asgard, the stars are near, and present. They show themselves to us in their life."_

"_I… I did not know." She replies softly, wonderment in her voice._

_He nods._

_And then he pauses, ceasing his steps. _

_Greta halts beside him, glancing up at him._

_He still stares at the sky, face lined in thought._

"_I find something more beautiful in your skies." He says at last. "Though your stars shine not close in brilliance. It is as gazing upon a memory." He nods, seemingly to himself. "A promise that things past are not things forgotten."_

_Greta continues staring up at him, and finds suddenly she cannot look away._

_He seems so young, and yet…_

"_You are different from the others my Lord." She whispers without even realizing it._

_He looks from the sky, down at her._

_She doesn't miss the vague frown pulling the corners of his lips._

_She swallows._

"_You are wise." She says._

_Loki blinks, and he then looks away, off towards the surrounding trees._

"_I am not wise." He says. _

"_But you are my Lord." Greta argues gently._

_Loki shakes his head._

"_No. All-Father Odin is wise. I am but a child who may dream himself so great. I study, but I do not contain such insight as that."_

_He looks back to her, unsure._

"… _Though you are kind to say so." He finishes._

_Greta's mouth falls open to disagree, to say she is only stating the obvious. _

_He may appear a boy, but she has never spoken with one so intelligent as he, she thinks._

_The words are on the tip of her tongue when Loki stills completely, his head tilting to the side._

"_Wait…" he says, putting a hand up to silence her._

_And she stills with him._

_There is only silence and the chirping of the crickets, and as the seconds pass, Greta's anxiousness grows._

"_My Lord," she finally whispers. "what is it?"_

_Loki is listening intently, and for a long moment, he does not answer._

"… _In the trees," he begins, turning sharply towards them. "there is…"_

_And it happens all at once, they are surrounded by a group of twelve other Aesir, developing out of the line, laughing and hollering loudly, forming a circle round them._

_Greta draws back, closer to Loki, and Loki frowns deeply, eyeing the other gods warily._

"_Good morrow, Prince Loki!" One of them greets, though there is nothing friendly in his tone. _

"… _Good morrow Eton." Loki replies. He knows this man from the palace guard, and about half or so of the others. They are part of a more rowdy group of them, often outspoken and, towards him in the least, often outwardly disrespectful. _

_Most usually he will ignore them and their teasing, but he sees now them eyeing Greta, and an unease takes his insides._

_Eton smiles back at Loki, the expression unkind, before abruptly his gaze flickers to Greta._

"_Have you lain with your woman yet?" He asks, and Loki can see the question is rhetorical. The guard knows._

_His face falls impassive, and he answers anyway._

"_I have thought to spend my time with her elsewise." He says quietly, eyes casting down finally._

_Eton's smile widens to a grin._

"_Of course Prince Loki." He says. "Of course you have."_

_Loki says nothing to that, standing motionless a moment before he abruptly turns, reaching out and taking Greta gently by the arm._

"_If you will excuse us…" he begins, starting to walk with her._

_But he finds their path blocked by the others, and when he glances behind, that way too is cut off._

_He frowns._

"_If you haven't use of her, my Lord…" Eton says, stepping around and closer to the prince. "I believe we may find such." _

_He reaches out and grabs rough hold of Greta's shoulder, tugging her away._

_Loki protests immediately, keeping his hold on her arm._

"_I have use of her Eton." He says back sharply. "She keeps me company tonight."_

"_But not the right _sort_ of company, my Prince." Eton returns as quickly, again tugging on her._

_Greta's face is twisted in worry, pleading eyes moving to Loki, glancing up at him._

_Loki's lip curls in anger, eyes narrowing on the other god._

"_There is no sort of company right or wrong." He says. "If ones company is welcome. And hers is welcome to me."_

"_You waste a fine conquest." One of the others, Ordo, sneers. "She is wasted on the likes of _you_, Silvertongue." _

_Loki turns on him, frame tight with tension, and it takes every ounce of his will to control himself then._

"_You will not have her." He says, trying very hard to keep his voice level. "My brother has granted her to me on this, my day."_

"_Granted to you for carnal pleasure," Ordo snaps. "for which you use her not. And so any grant is rendered null." _

_And at once, the others move in, grabbing hold of Loki and pulling him from Greta, forcing his hand from her arm and shoving him back. He stumbles, struggling to keep his footing._

_Eton takes hold of the woman's hair, pulling her head back at an angle. She cries out in pain and he cuts her short by pressing his lips to her mouth._

_Loki feels a shock of rage course through him, his eyes going wide as he steps forward again, reaching out for her._

_But the others form a blockade, arms crossing as they keep him from her, glaring at him with vicious snarls, a warning that he attempts to take her again at his own risk._

_Loki stops, staring back, and slowly, his arms fall, lowering to his sides._

_He glares back, body taught with the need to lunge and fight. They outnumber him by far, and though he suspects he may be capable of handling at least some of them, they are each capable fighters, each older and more experienced than he, and he is not his brother._

_He could use his magic, but…_

"_Go on then, Prince," one of them taunts as though reading his mind. "if you think of using your sorcery, if you attack us with such, or even if not, if you choose to fight us on even ground, it will be your word against ours as to who began what, and no one believes the liesmith. You know this well. Just another instance of our ill-tempered young Lord losing his head, and us having little choice but to defend ourselves against his dangerous and _unstable_ craft."_

_He hesitates, and Eton smiles, arm wrapping round Greta's shoulders, pulling her back tight against him._

"_Yes, and what of when they hear what our young Prince has lost his head over, hmm?" He asks. "That he thought the rest of us barbaric in our behavior, that he thought lowly of our desire for flesh? What, I wonder, will Prince _Thor_ think of such judgment, such harsh appraisal of activity he himself participates in? What will he say, I am curious, when he learns of his quick to anger younger sibling, _attacking_ the very ones who do guard him each day, simply for partaking in the same pleasures as he?"_

_And Loki can feel himself trembling, though he knows it near imperceptible, he feels it, and his hands harden to fists, nails digging into palms, stinging pain._

_Focus, focus…_

_He needs to focus away…_

_They…_

_They are right. _

_Thor… Thor would be shamed… he would be _shamed_ by him if…_

_And Loki does not want that._

_He does not want Thor's anger._

_He only wants…_

_Only wants…_

_His teeth grind, and sharply, abruptly, he turns away, striding from them, quickly._

_As quickly as he can._

_He wants to be away from here now._

_He wants to be away._

_He will find Thor, and they will go back to Asgard, away from here._

_It will be alright._

_He ignores the cries of Greta, the sound of the others pushing her to the ground and forcing themselves upon her._

_He ignores their laughter, and taunts of "coward"._

_He will find Thor, and his brother will take him from this place._

_/_

_The tavern has cleared near completely by the time he enters again._

_There is only a single man left, sat at a table in the far corner of the room. His face part obscured by shadow. Loki only spares him a glance as he strides past, barely notices the man watching him back as he heads straight for the room he knows Thor to have retired to._

_He moves to it quickly, taking deep breaths through his nose, trying urgently to calm himself. He does not wish Thor to see him upset. Only wishes to convince him into leaving. It should be a simple task, he thinks. _

_Simple._

_He waits a moment, standing there._

_Listening._

_He hears nothing, and thinks Thor must be sleeping._

_He raises a fist and raps softly._

_No reply._

_Knocks harder._

_Still no reply._

_And so Loki swallows._

_Thor enters his chambers always without knocking. He is sure then there should be no issue with him doing the same._

_He reaches out, taking hold the handle, pressing down along the latch and pushing the door in._

_He is met with a barely lit room, only a single candle along the bedside stand to light the place._

_And then his eyes move to the bed, and he sees beneath thick blankets of fur, a mass, moving minutely, slowly in a rocking motion._

_For a moment, he stares bewildered, unsure of what he looks upon._

_He thinks irrationally a moment it is some great beast, come to attack his brother in the middle of the night. And with the thought, panic blooms in his chest, and he steps forward to action._

_In the same instant, he hears it. _

_A loud grunt, followed by a soft moan, and he freezes, realizing all too suddenly what is going on._

_Silently, he curses himself, turning swiftly to leave. And in his haste, uncharacteristically he fails to notice his brother's discarded armor along the floor, and his foot collides with a chest plate, a loud clattering resounding through the room._

_Again, the trickster god freezes, sucking a sharp breath, and Thor is up in an instant, leaping from the bed and grabbing up a forgotten broad sword from the ground, throwing himself to a defensive stance._

"_Who goes there?" He calls, voice booming and threatening._

_For a moment, Loki doesn't dare move, mortified._

_But Thor's angry growl turns him quickly, recognizing the sound of his brothers warning._

"_It is only I Thor." He calls softly, and his eyes go wide a moment as he faces the thunder god fully and sees he has naught an article to preserve his modesty._

_Quickly his gaze shifts to the floor, feeling his cheeks flush._

_There is silence a moment, and then he hears…_

"… _Loki?"_

_Loki nods._

"_Yes Thor, I…"_

"_What are you doing in here brother?" Thor cuts him short before he can finish, lowering his sword._

_He sounds angry, and Loki again swallows, thick and uncomfortable._

"_I… I sought you out Thor. I… I wished to ask you…"_

"_Loki, can you not see I am otherwise _occupied_?" The elder prince spits through his teeth. _

_Once more, Loki nods, feeling his frame wind with anxiety._

"_I can Thor. I am sorry. I only wished to ask…"_

"_Now is not the time for your enquiries brother." Again, Thor interrupts, and this time, he is coming towards the smaller god, reaching out with his free hand. "You disturb me, and I am displeased."_

_Before Loki can react, Thor has him by the collar of his tunic, and is roughly shoving him back through the door, pushing him hard enough to make him lose his footing and fall to the ground outside._

_The elder god glares at him from the threshold, and Loki's cheeks burn hotter at the sight of his brother nude, thrown into the relief of the taverns burning oil lamps. _

_He looks away again as Thor yells at him._

"_You will conduct yourself with better care in the future Loki, or I shall make a game of cracking your skull and breaking your bones. Understood?"_

_Loki doesn't speak in reply, only nods._

_Thor frowns at him a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion, before abruptly he turns, retreating back into the room and slamming the door shut behind him._

_Loki doesn't move, except for his fingers curling beneath his palms and teeth grinding together._

Idiot_… he thinks harshly. He should have _known _better than to disturb Thor now, when he was still heavy with the drink, and occupied with company. He's made an utter fool of himself, and he can blame no one else for that._

_He deserves this then._

_And he thinks to move, to get up and find his own room, determined to simply contend his circumstances for the night. He is sure they can return home in the morning. It will all be alright then…_

_But before he can stand, he hears movement behind him, and he turns, eyes wide with abrupt and unforgiving panic, certain he is being attacked._

_He only finds there the man from the table, standing a few feet away, looking down at him, mouth pulled in a deep frown._

_Loki stares back a moment, surprised. But he quickly wipes the expression from his face, replacing it with one of nothing._

_He glances away, determined to ignore the unwanted witness to his humiliation, to simply pick himself back up and slink away, as he always does._

_But suddenly the man is stepping closer, stepping within inches. Suddenly he is leaning down, and Loki, to his great confusion, finds himself shocked into momentary paralysis, unable to respond as the man reaches out, rough fingers suddenly touching against his face, smoothing over his skin._

_Loki stares, voice trapped somewhere in his throat, as the man looks back, his face less than a breath away._

_And it strikes the young god suddenly how very good looking the man is, features wholly opposite his own. Rugged and strong and broad. Deep brown eyes, colored warm, thick and dried lips, squared jaw and wide nose._

_He is hard looking, but there seems a kindness there. _

_Loki cannot look away._

"_Are you alright?" The man asks, voice to match his face, low and round._

_Loki says nothing._

"_That was unkind, what he did to you." He goes on, and his fingers are moving, pushing up into Loki's hair, brushing it back from his forehead. "He shouldn't have done it."_

_Loki's mouth feels dry, and he tries swallowing._

_At last he finds his voice, and he gets out…_

"… _Excuse me?"_

_The man smiles, and Loki feels his heart pound, a bizarre warmth spreading to his cheeks again._

_His eyes flit away, and he wonders suddenly why._

"_You are a beautiful thing." The man goes on, ignoring his question._

_And before Loki has a chance to respond, he's closed the rest of what little distance is left between them, pressing his dry lips to the gods own._

_Loki stiffens._

_Goes absolutely _rigid_._

_He pulls back, eyes wide, and he begins to say…_

"_What do you think you are do…"_

_But the man cuts him short, leaning forward to again capture his lips with his own, and now he deepens it, prodding with his tongue._

_Loki once more goes hard, tensing, and his hands lift, ready to push the man off, perhaps kill him for a show of such insolence._

_But in his anger, his lips come briefly apart, and the man's tongue slips inside, and by Odin… by Odin… it feels _good_._

_And without realization, Loki goes slack, leaning back as the man pushes. Pliant. He nearly chokes when the man's knee slides up between his legs and brushes against him, and the man's hands find his hair, craning his head back farther, tongue plunging deeper. Loki's eyes close, and he keeps kissing back, the strange warmth of before seeming to spread, down through the pit of his stomach now._

_What is this?_

_At last, the man pulls back, gasping for breath, and he grins down at Loki as the gods lids slowly flutter open._

"_Would you care to go with me to my room?" He asks softly._

_And without even really thinking, without knowing why, Loki nods, the motion weak, almost lethargic._

_And so the man stands, reaching out a hand and taking Loki's own, helping to pull him to his feet._

_Loki lets himself be led, following behind as the man takes him up the stairs and into a room at the end of the first hall._

_He does nothing as the man closes the door behind him, only stands and stares as he turns back around, and smiles softly._

"_I've been watching you all night, Odinson." He says. "My name is Alexi Gustauve. I am a farmer."_

_Loki doesn't reply, eyes fixed on the man, a good head shorter than him, but maybe twice as thick._

"_You are truly beautiful." Alexi goes on, seeming unfazed by the lack of response._

_The room is lit by only a single oil lamp, and he moves past the god to another, on the opposite end._

_Within moments, the place is better illuminated, though still dark._

_Alexi turns to him again, still smiling._

_He gestures to the bed now._

"_Would you like to lie down?" He asks._

_For a moment, Loki remains silent, eyes focused and intent on the man._

_What is he even _doing_, he asks himself. What in the Nine Realms has possessed him to follow this man into his room?_

_He does not understand. Only knows the warmth he felt when the man kissed him, and that he liked it._

_He liked it very much._

_Loki has never been kissed on the lips._

_He did not know it could feel so nice._

_He swallows after a moment and then gives a single nod._

_He doesn't move, and Alexi grins, chuckling lightly._

"_You are very young." He notes._

_And again, Loki feels his cheeks flush._

_What in Hel is _wrong _with him?_

"_I am far older than you." He states simply._

"_Ah," Alexi nods. "But you are but a child among your kind. And I am well long a man among my own. Our lives are so short, us mortals are forced to learn and experience so much quicker than are you."_

_Loki knows not what to say to that, and so he says nothing. And again, the man gestures to the bed._

"_Lie down." He says, almost a command._

_And Loki doesn't know why, but he listens._

_He moves to the mattress, lowering himself onto it._

_He feels a kind of jittery numbness through his hands, and he wonders what it is._

_Surely he is not nervous._

_Why should any mortal make _him _nervous?_

_Alexi follows him, standing at the bed's foot._

"_On your back then godling." He speaks quietly._

_And again, Loki does as he's told, rolling onto his back, until he is looking up at the man._

_Alexi is smirking at him._

_Loki frowns vaguely._

"_Have you ever been with a man?" He asks suddenly._

_Loki's throat feels tight, and slowly, he shakes his head._

"_Ever been with a woman?" He asks again._

_And again, Loki shakes his head._

_Now he knows something is wrong with him. Why is he telling this human the truth? Such _embarrassing _truths, worst of all?_

"_Ah, so you are a virgin then?"_

_Silence._

"_Well, my Lord, I promise to make your first experience a memorable one."_

_And then Alexi is lowering himself onto the bed, and crawling forward._

_Again, Loki feels his frame tense, and without even realizing it, he is leaning back, against the pillows, his heart beginning to hammer beneath his ribcage._

_Alexi seems aware of it as he continues forward._

_Within moments, he is straddling the god, knees planted on either side of his hips, and he reaches out, placing a gentle hand against Loki's chest._

_Loki stares back at him with wide eyes._

"_You must relax young one." The man says in a whisper. "I promise I will not hurt you."_

_And finally, Loki scowls._

"_You could not." He says dangerously._

_Alexi only smiles._

"_Not physically, no." He concedes. "I would never deign to think myself your equal in any way."_

_For several, long seconds, Loki glares at him, the man only continuing to smile back kindly. If he is at all afraid, he shows no sign of it._

_And eventually, Loki's relaxes, if only just, lying back more easily against the pillows._

_Alexi's smile widens._

"_That's better." He says._

_And then he is leaning in, and kissing the god again, and Loki welcomes it eagerly._

_If he had known it felt so nice for another's lips to be pressed against his own, to feel their tongue in his mouth, he might have sought it out before now._

_If anyone would have him for it…_

_He pushes the thought away quickly, trying to focus on what is happening, kissing back, his own tongue slipping out, prodding timid against the man's lips. And quickly Alexi opens, allowing him access._

_He moans deeply and Loki feels his breath hitch._

_And then there is warmth across the skin of his stomach, calloused palms pressing and moving up to his chest, lifting his tunic as they go, and Loki chokes out, almost unaware as he lifts his arms and allows Alexi to pull the article over his head and toss it aside, leaving him in only his britches._

_And suddenly the man is pressing kisses to his chest, and Loki falls back against the pillows, going limp as Alexi's lips work._

_A treacherous groan escapes past the gods lips as, without warning, Alexi bites down softly along his right nipple, sucking at it, and Loki brings a hand up to his mouth, biting down hard along his knuckle._

_By the Norns, this feels…_

_It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to writhe as Alexi drags his tongue and kisses his way across the rest of his chest, to his other nipple, teasing and biting before be begins lower, across his flat and tight abdomen, to his belly button. _

_The tiniest of whimpers slips from Loki's throat as the man's tongue dips into the small crevice, and his eyes close tight, a shuddering breath escaping his lips._

_The warmth builds, grows stronger._

_And then there is pressure against his groin, fingers pressing, and Loki stills._

_Automatically, his hand snaps out, grabbing hold of Alexi's wrist, squeezing tight._

_Alexi has to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in pain, instead his eyes lifting to Loki's face._

"_Wh… what are you doing?" Loki chokes out, voice harsh._

"_It is alright, my Lord." Alexi answers, voice calm. "I desire only your pleasure."_

_Loki watches him with suspicious eyes._

_Alexi smiles._

"_I swear my Lord, I will make certain you do not regret it. Let me give this to you."_

_Loki looks for the lie. Looks for the falsity in the man's voice, in his eyes, his smile, certain he will find it, that he will spot the cruelty of false hope._

_But he can find none._

_And eventually, he relinquishes his hold..._

_/_

_It is over all too soon, and Loki lies on his back now, legs tangled in the sheets, staring up at the dim lit ceiling, the man… Alexi… Alexi Gustauve lying by his side._

_And Loki smiles._

_He had had no idea…_

_No idea how such a thing would feel…_

_No idea how good…_

_How sweet…_

_And Alexi…_

_Loki does not quite understand the feeling of warmth in his chest at the thought of the man. This mortal who he has only known for the past hour. But there is something…_

_He had been so gentle… so kind in the way he touched…_

_Loki had never known a touch could be as that._

_Could be as tender and caring._

_It makes his smile widen, and he realizes that, for the past hour, he has forgotten completely the rest of the night. _

_He has forgotten Greta, and Thor, and Eton and his gang, and the Warriors Three and Sif and all of them._

_He has forgotten his humiliation and anger and disgust._

_And it is Alexi, he knows… it is this mortal man… who had made it so._

_Who has made him _happy_._

_He turns his head, seeing him there, lying still, staring up at the ceiling as he had been._

_And without thought, driven by desire, Loki lifts himself onto his elbows and leans forward, over him, bending down to kiss._

_He isn't expecting Alexi to turn on his shoulder and lean away, nearly making Loki lose his balance and fall as he sits up abruptly and stands._

_Loki gazes up at him from the bed, confusion clear across his face._

"… _Alexi?" He breaths in a hushed voice._

_Alexi has already begun pulling his own clothes back on._

_He doesn't look at Loki as he says…_

"_I must get back home now my Lord. My wife will be expecting me."_

_Loki frowns, brow furrowing heavy._

_He sits up, pulling the sheets around him._

"_I… I had hoped you might stay the rest of the night." He says quietly, and Alexi turns, finally looking at him, smiling._

_Loki looks back, and there is something untrue in the smile._

_It does not reach Alexi's eyes, and there is a sudden tightening in Loki's chest._

"_I must return home my Lord." He repeats. "I pray you will forgive my hasty exit. But the wife, you understand."_

_Loki nods vaguely._

"_Yes. Yes, of course." He breaths softly._

_But he doesn't really. He doesn't understand the urgency in Alexi suddenly. The desire he sees in him to get away._

_Loki swallows._

"_Will… will I see you again?"_

_A brief pause, and then…_

"_Perhaps, my Lord."_

_Within the minute, Alexi has his boots on and is heading for the door._

_Loki watches him, still sitting naked in the bed, and he turns one last time, smiling at the god._

"_My Lord." He nods._

_And then he's pulled the door open and disappeared through it, closing it behind._

_Loki looks after him._

_And he doesn't understand at all._

_/_

_Loki follows him._

_He doesn't know why._

_He just does._

_Follows him back to his house._

_Alexi doesn't know. Because no one knows when Loki is there, if he does not wish it._

_He watches the man enter his house, more a small shake on a small plot of land, and the god sneaks to the structures single window, hiding beneath it and peering in._

_He sees Alexi almost immediately, greeting a woman who looks similar in age. They hug each other, and then kiss, and Loki feels an inexplicable rush of jealousy through his insides._

_He pushes it down, and keeps watching._

_They begin speaking to one another._

_Loki whispers quietly._

"_Eaente." _

_And suddenly he can hear their voices perfectly._

"_Did you do it?" The woman asks, and Alexi nods._

"_Was it difficult?"_

_Alexi shakes his head, grinning._

"_No. Easier than I thought it would be."_

_The woman smiles now._

"_Surprising. You'd think it would be harder to seduce the god of mischief. And you hear things about that one. Murmurings of his distaste for human flesh."_

"_He is a young god." Alexi says. "Without experience and naive. I had my eyes on him all night. One need only watch him to see how silly and vulnerable he is. Truly he is a child, with childish notions. He knows not the way things work. You would not believe what he told me wife."_

"_Eh?" She asks._

_Alexi laughs._

"_He admitted to never having lain with either a man or a woman." _

_The woman's eyes go wide, mouth falling open in shock._

"_No?" She breaths in disbelief. "You mean to tell me he's a virgin?"_

_Alexi grins._

"Was_. I took care of that for him."_

_The woman nods, laughing._

"_You are a special man to have taken a gods innocence then husband." She says._

"_Indeed." He agrees. "I even was able to make him _beg_." He chuckles._

"_You _did_?" She asks, astonished, and he nods._

"_My, but a mortal man, reducing a god to _begging!_" She laughs, and he laughs with her._

"_I do believe even he thought I held some true affection for him. You hear tales of Loki the trickster being capable of seeing through any falsehood. But I saw no such ability tonight. He was easily fooled. Perhaps it was the lust clouding his mind." He grins. "He was played so well at his own game."_

"_Do you think it will work then?" She asks after a moment. "Will we gain his protection from giants and trolls if we pray to him now?"_

"_It had better." Alexi replies. "I do not wish to have to do the same again."_

_The woman looks mildly confused._

"_Was it not a pleasant experience?" She asks. "I hear to lay with a god is something akin to paradise."_

_Alexi shakes his head._

"_Loki is not the same as the others." He answers, voice clear with disgust. "Compared with his brethren, he is slight and soft. I might have been able to pretend him a woman if not for his sharp angles and ugly face. Besides which, he is all pale and dark and too thin. And he knew not what he was doing. I could not get away from him fast enough."_

_The woman again nods, and begins to say something else._

_But whatever it is, Loki does not hear._

_The spell shatters as he slips down, the strength suddenly gone from him, his back falling against the shacks wooden planks._

_He stares ahead of himself at nothing._

_For a long while, he just sits and stares._

_He feels strangely numb._

_Like there is nothing inside._

_Empty._

_For a long time, empty._

_Numb…_

_He does not even realize he is crying until is vision blurs, and he becomes suddenly, haltingly aware of the wetness down his cheeks._

_And all at once, the numbness lifts, and he feels not empty inside anymore…_

_There is something tight, coiling, constricting inside his chest._

_Suddenly he cannot _breathe_._

_Pressure… there is so much pressure on his chest. Inside. Why can't he breathe? _

_He feels nauseous. Like he might vomit. His head spins._

_Did he… did he eat something rancid? He doesn't recall eating anything at the table last night. He…_

_Why can't he breathe?_

_Pressure, pressure, pressure…_

_And then there is the panic of _falling_…_

_He is _falling_._

_His stomach flips, coming up into his throat, and he is falling, falling, falling…_

_There is noise._

_He can't quite make out what it is._

_But it grows louder, until it fills his ears and he can hear nothing else._

_A high pitched keen._

_Like a child wailing._

_Weeping…_

_Alone, alone…_

_Weeping and alone and lost…_

_He only realizes minutes later it is the sound of his own sobs as he falls forward, face burying in his long, thin, white, white hands._

_Only realizes it is him, and he is shaking, and falling and he can't _breathe_, oh gods, why can he not _breathe_!_

_And he sobs and shakes and falls forever, and he cannot breathe._

_Weeps like a child forever._

_And he wishes his Mother were here._

_He wishes she were here so much._

_He wants his Mother._

_And he weeps and trembles and falls forever._

_Until the sun is high, and warm, warm, warm against his frozen cold skin._

_He cries and he shakes and he falls forever, until the sun is in the sky._

_And then he stands, and he wipes at his face, and he whispers words._

_And the shack behind him ignites in flames._

_He bars the door with magic, bars the window._

_He hears the screams from inside._

_He stumbles forward._

_He does not stop._

_He will find Thor now._

_And Thor will take him from this place._

_Take him from this horrible place._

_He wants to go home._

_He wants to go home…_

… _He wants to go…_

_/_

_AN: So, I should say, since some of you have a question regarding this, Loki's relations with the man in this chapter isn't a statement on Loki's sexuality. Loki's been alive for hundreds of years, at this point in the story, he's a god, in the story, and isn't beholden to standards or views of morality and socially "acceptable" behavior that we, as humans, hold ourselves to. Loki's relations with the man in this chapter doesn't mean he's gay, it's more an exploration of the affects such an event would have on his psyche and own perception of the world. I imagine, having been alive for so long, Loki has likely had sexual relations with both men and women and various times throughout those thousands of years. Anyone who thinks this is "gross" or has a problem with it, I'm sorry. But it's only rational, and logical, in my mind, that someone who's been alive that long would have tried any and everything imaginable. You can't hold someone like Loki, or Thor, or any of these characters, to the same standards you might hold yourself to. And that's all I'm going to say on that. I put a warning at the beginning of this chapter, that if you had a problem with homosexual displays, you should skip out on this. It's not my fault if you failed to heed that warning, knowing what was going to happen, going in._


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey everyone, so, I finished up the next chapter early, and so thought I'd just post it, just to get us back into the present. **

**For anyone who I offended with the last chapter, I apologize. Wasn't my intention. I thought I had a Mature rating on this story, and it was pointed out to me that I didn't, and so I've changed it. That said, that last chapter is the only one in the whole story to feature that kind of content.**

**But enough rambling. Here you guys go.**

**Chapter 24:**

Loki does not sleep.

Really.

He dozes.

Passes between a state of waking and unconsciousness that is not quite either.

For him, it has ever been this way.

And it is the slightest sounds, the slightest touch or simple shifting of air which can drive him back to full awareness.

It had been Thor's snoring which did it this time.

Thor, who now insisted on sharing the room with him, until he in the least became better acquainted with his new environment and "friends".

Thor of course was adamant on the point of that being what the team of four others _were _to him now. _Friends_.

Loki let him believe this.

For the time being.

Grand delusion that it was.

Thor is worried, and Loki holds it not against him.

He is unwell, and he knows it.

But he always has been.

He always has.

It is only now that Thor is aware of it, and he worries, and Loki holds it not against him.

He has been here with his older brother for two days.

Jane has gone back to New Mexico, for the time being.

Loki has not yet left this room, except those few hours ago, down to the training room where he had found the archer and they had fallen into a quarrel. If one could call it such. The little Hawk was overly sensitive. Loki had been confused by his suddenly violent reaction. He had thought himself to be appeasing to the little man, even comforting. That had in the least been his intention. But his words had seemed to have the opposite affect, and Loki still puzzled over why.

Before that, he had explored the place some, though nothing extensive. Walked half the floors, rummaged through compartments and closets and rooms with locks on the doors. They had all been easy enough to bypass.

He had been inside Stark's armory, Loki supposes it must be called, and had thought about tampering with his suit of metal. Nothing which would result in the mortal's death, of course, just a bit of mischief.

But he had decided against it. He was certain such games would be taken, at this stage, more as a threat, and he was not keen on the thought of upsetting Thor so.

He has stayed here though, these past days. He has had no true desire to interact with the mortals. And Thor has not pushed him.

Thor, who Loki has been sitting beside these last, several hours, listening to him sleep as he reads from a book he stole from Stark's rather expansive library. Something Loki had been pleasantly surprised to come upon.

He and his brother had stayed awake into the early morning hours, talking.

Thor had finally asked to be told a story, and Loki had obliged.

That was how he had fallen asleep, Loki spinning a fanciful tale of adventure and conquest and Princes and Princesses, daring romance and epic battle, the sort of tale Thor likes best, accompanying it with conjured images of the yarns principle leads and creatures and landscapes.

Loki had lain down beside him after he had fallen to slumber and… dozed.

Sleeping with Thor is both beneficial and detrimental to Loki's own sleeping habits.

For Thor's warmth is something which can always drag him to restfulness and peace.

But Thor's snoring is something which can always pull him out.

Sometimes… because often Loki dreams… and his dreams are so rarely, rarely pleasant… it is Thor's snoring which saves him, and those times Loki is grateful for the oaf's noise, and he throws his arm across the elder god and rests his head against his great chest and just listens… hears the sound of his heart…

And he feels safe then. And warm. And he doesn't need to sleep at all. He doesn't need it, so long as he can lie here and feel safe… and warm…

The sun is coming up now, peeking over the overly tall buildings the humans have erected throughout this city. Loki wonders at the reasoning behind such massive structures.

He is certain it has some connection with the mortals need to inflate their own sense of self-worth. For most of them are tiny things, and have no need of such large places.

He thinks it rather an inconvenience to them even. But logic and rationality have never been the human's strong suit, he knows.

By the time Thor stirs, the sun is full in the sky, and Loki sits back against the beds headboard, book held in his lap, watching him silently.

It takes the elder god a long while before his eyes flutter open, sluggish and still sleep worn. And Loki smiles at him.

"Good morn." He says softly before Thor has even seen him, and blue eyes shift suddenly to him, blinking rapid to clear their vision.

"Loki," Thor breaths, slightly anxious. "I did not notice you there."

Loki's smile broadens.

"I have been here all the night." He says easily. It is a lie. He thinks now is not the best of times to inform his big brother of the encounter he had with Barton. If and when such comes to light, he will deal with it then.

It isn't as though he did anything wrong anyway.

Thor smiles back.

"Of course." He says, beginning to sit up. "Did you sleep at all brother?"

Loki shrugs lazily.

"Some." He answers.

Thor frowns slightly.

"Not well then?" He asks.

"My rest is rarely well Thor." Loki replies truthfully.

Thor's frown deepens.

"We must change this." He announces.

And Loki laughs quietly.

"I fear it will be a change slow coming." He replies, voice light.

Thor seems not amused, and Loki reaches out, smacking him gently across the shoulder.

"So _serious _big brother!" He grins. "It suits you ill. Come, do not dwell on such things. Tell me how you fared in slumber."

The thunder gods face lines in concern, frown deepening.

"I slept well Loki, as always. Deep. But I wish you would not address your own troubles with such casual disregard." He reaches out, clamping a hand firm to the nap of the smaller god's neck. "I worry for you brother. I pray you would deign to speak with me over whatever ails your peace."

And whatever lighthearted temperament the trickster had been forcing into place dies quickly away, the smile fading from his lips.

He stares back at Thor a long moment, and Thor can see a kind of desperate longing in his eyes… an almost hope. And for an instant, he allows himself hope too, that Loki will grant himself the right to speak, to share whatever causes him such unrest, and to understand that though he may not always fully comprehend it, he has in the thunder god a companion who will in the least listen, and do everything within his power to ease the pain his brother suffers with.

But then Loki blinks, and his eyes shift away, fixing on the sheets below them.

When he speaks again, his voice is a strained whisper…

"It is nothing Thor." He says. "I am fine."

It is not one of his more convincing lies.

"You are not Loki." Thor says, determined, seeing easily through it.

And now Loki says nothing.

"Brother…" the elder Prince reaches out, hand on the others shoulder. "tell me what keeps you from rest."

Loki still won't look at him, his face remaining impassive.

He shakes his head.

"… It is dreams." He whispers. "Only dreams."

Thor's brow furrows.

"Dreams? As you had as a child."

Loki is silent.

"You told me of your dreams then Loki." Thor goes on, pushing. "You trusted me to them. You can tell me now. Of what do you dream?"

"It is not of import." Loki replies quickly.

Thor isn't convinced.

"It is." He says. "Tell me of what you dream."

There is a long stretch of quiet, Loki still and soundless.

Until finally, he shifts, turning his face farther away, and he breathes out, barely heard…

"Of things past…" he says. "… of things done…"

_His teeth grind as he's pushed to his knees, claws like steel crushing down over the bands of his arms._

_These creatures, whatever they are, are viciously strong. _

_It would not have mattered, if his own strength hadn't been drained so. _

_But he had fallen for what seemed eternity, and the energy he had subconsciously used to keep himself alive… he had been so sure he wanted to die… he had been so sure… it had left him drained and beyond exhaustion by the time he'd broken through the atmosphere of whatever barren planet this was and fallen miles more before crashing along his back against the unforgiving surface._

_It had been hard, and fast, and he had lain broken there for a period of time he still could not be sure of, struggling for breath, for his form to break free of its then paralysis. _

_It was finally when he'd begun to regain some feeling through his limbs, when he'd begun to shift, _they _had come._

_Monsters, had been his initial thought upon laying his gaze towards them. Hideous and deformed and like some sort of insect._

_He had scrambled back from them, forcing himself into quicker recovery and pushing himself to his feet, and his eyes had grown wide as he'd watched wave upon wave of them crest over the hill, what seemed hundreds._

_For the briefest of moments, they had only stared back at one another, they seeming as confused and unsure of him as he was of they. But whatever hesitation they'd had had lasted but an instant, and it was then he learned their hostility matched their appearance. Cruel and ugly and base._

_They had attacked him, and he had fought back as best he could._

_He must have killed near five dozen of them before he'd been overwhelmed. Their strength matched his own, yet their skill as fighters was something far less, and for a brief while, he had allowed himself to hope he might find himself victorious in the battle._

_But they had only kept coming. An endless stream of them, and without the full strength of his magic… without that, only enough to vanish away the smallest of distances… but they always found him again… and with no weapon other than his hands… he had been eventually overrun, beaten with sticks and rocks and held with sharp, cutting fingers, dragged and taken to the foot of some free floating dais, forced here to kneel._

_His tongue runs over his lips, tasting bitter copper as his eyes flash, glaring up at some hooded figure, standing a mere few feet from where he is held, its face obscured in shadow._

_Some form of leader, Loki thinks, to these mindless drones. Insects indeed._

_He will not be intimidated._

_They know not of him, and with his returning strength, he will destroy them all without effort. It should hardly be a task, he is sure._

_The hooded figure steps nearer, and Loki does not flinch as a malformed and grey skinned hand emerges from beneath its robes, fingers stretching towards his face._

"_What manner of creature are you?" It hisses in a roughened, high pitched timbre. One that grates, and seems to form multitudes of voices._

_For a moment, Loki does not respond._

_He knows not what these things are. Who they are._

_He has studied every known race and being of the Nine. To say he is well learned and well read does injustice to the extent of his education. And yet of these things, he has no knowledge at all. It more annoys him than unsettles._

"_It will answer!" The thing lashes out, striking him across the face._

_Loki feels the skin split and bleed, the sting of a fresh wound from razor nails._

_His expression remains unmoved but for the vague frown pulling the corners of his lips._

"_I am Loki," he says, and for a moment, he is shocked at the sound of his own voice, brittle and strained from disuse. _

_He had fallen for so very long…_

"_Of Asgard." He continues._

"_Of… Asgard…?" The thing says._

_And at once, abruptly, there is movement near the top of the floating dais, and Loki's eyes snap to it, widening in alarm._

_There was someone there, some other being… One he had been unaware of… whom he hadn't detected…_

_He cannot recall there ever having been a time when there was one in his presence he had failed to notice._

_And agitation turns to wariness._

"_Loki of Asgard." Comes a voice thick and deep and _ancient_._

_The hooded creature turns, and suddenly he is kneeling, head bowed as the source of that voice stands, rearing up from behind what Loki belatedly realizes is a thrown._

_It turns, and the young god stares back, for a moment, transfixed._

_The being is massive, more obvious as it turns fully, coming into clear view, dressed in impressive and imposing garb. He begins to descend down the steps, and Loki can see he must stand almost a full length of his own form taller, thick and broad._

_His skin is a shade of violet, deep as to be almost blue…_

_Blue…_

_Loki swallows and pushes the thoughts from his mind._

_The beings eyes shine bright and yellow as he reaches the foot, the hooded creature remaining bowed and stepping away, subservient and frightened._

_Loki refuses to look away, though already he can sense, whoever this being is, he is old as Odin, and his power is so surely great._

_He steps closer, and Loki's gaze remains locked, staring up and unwavering._

_He smiles, teeth flashing white at the trickster._

"_Loki of Asgard." He says, and the air seems to rumble with his voice. "You are a far way from home, _little god_."_

_And Loki freezes. Wariness turning to a momentary and sickening burst of panic._

_The being knows who he is then?_

_He says nothing._

_The being continues glaring down at him, smile at last fading._

"_You are a _young_ god." He goes on. And a low chuckle escapes his lips. "Truly but a _boy_."_

_Panic turns quickly to anger as Loki hears the mock._

_He will _not_ be laughed at._

"_I am a _Prince_." He spits in return._

"_Oh?" The being replies, amused._

_Loki goes on, unbidden. _

"_A _King_." He says sharply. "Ruler of the Realm Eternal. I will not be mocked. Most especially by one of your sort."_

_The beings smile widens._

"_Hmm." He says. "And, what sort _am_ I, Loki, _King_ of Asgard?"_

"_A brutish and insolent sort." Loki snaps, paying no heed to the growing unease inside his belly, nor to the voice whispering relentless against the back of his mind. _Jotun. Monster. Lie, lie, lie_. _Loki of nowhere, Prince of nothing…

"_That you would have your minions lay hands so upon one of Royal standing." He goes on. "I demand you to release me."_

_And the being laughs. His head tossing back, bellowing loudly._

_Loki frowns._

"_Oh, little god," he says after a moment._

_And suddenly he is leaning closer, and Loki can feel the surge of something… some energy great, and at once, his breath catches in his throat, his eyes larger._

"_You think yourself highly?" The being goes on. "You know not who I am."_

_He reaches out, unexpected, grasping to the trickster's jaw, tugging him forward as though he is nothing._

_There is strength in that hand which gives Loki abrupt and uncomfortable pause. And the energy… he can sense it… something _beyond_ him…_

"_I am _Thanos_." The being says. _

_And Loki's eyes widen further._

_Thanos…_

_The Mad Titan? _

_But no, it is not possible._

_He… he is but a myth… a legend… a story of a time long lost and made undone by eons. _

_It is _not _possible._

_The being must see his shocked disbelief, because he laughs again, hand gripping tighter, and Loki can feel the threat of his jaw breaking._

_Too much strength… too much power…_

"_Little god," he says. "you are the _trickster_ god. Loki of the silvertongue, Loki of mischief and magic and supposed, great _wit_. Odin's _youngest_ child."_

_And again, anxiousness gives way to anger. Loki forgets himself and snarls, memories and pain and betrayal seeping into his sight, blinding him with red._

"_I am no son of Odin!" He spits, trying in vain to jerk his face free of the unrelenting grip._

_Thanos only smiles._

"_By blood, no." He replies. "You are a bastard child. Abandoned to die for the worthlessness of you, your smallness in form. Weakness in you which would bring only shame upon your giant kin."_

_Whatever flush of rage in his cheeks drains, and Loki stares, stunned, his tongue failing him as his voice is lost in his throat._

_How could he know this? How could he _possibly_ know when he himself did not? For so long, did not…_

_Thanos goes on, amused._

"_You are not so sure as you _pretend _yourself, little god." He says smugly. "I can sense it in you. A great chasm of doubt which bleeds you empty. Smoldering hate and consuming disgust for what you know yourself to be. The great liar indeed. For only a liar so great could deceive themselves so thoroughly."_

_The grip tightens, and it takes what strength Loki has left not to cry out with the pain._

"_Your magic is strong, godling. Though you possess not the confidence to wield it to its potential. And still then, you overestimate your own power."_

_At once, all amusement is gone from the Titan's features, and he scowls deeply._

"_Feel than what _real _power is." _

_And suddenly, he cannot breathe._

_And there is pain… so much pain…_

_Oh gods, it is unlike any…_

_He cannot _breathe_ and he can feel… pulling out of him… _ripping _from him…_

_A shocked gasp tears from his lips, eyes huge and startled._

_In an instant, he is crumpled, more, sharp gasps._

_His magic… oh gods, his _magic_!_

_It is being _drained_ from him. He can feel it. Undone from the inside, unraveled at its roots and bled out._

_And he cannot help it. A haggard and terrified scream lets loose from his throat as the very whole of him is unwoven, rapid and fierce and too fast, too fast, too fast…_

_He is going to die._

_He will die _surely_, and this _pain_… Oh please, make it stop, stop, stop… it hurts like crushing _death_._

"_Gaahheehh…" he whimpers, unable to stop the tears which form thick and run down his broken face, crumpling farther, slumping limp in the hands of the creatures still holding him. _

_Thanos does not let go._

"_I could bleed you until there is naught but this pathetic and weak body of yours, rendered a carcass without the presence of your precious energy. For I know how bound is your magic to your life force, little god. They are one and the same. One without the other is vanquished, and I should like very much to gift the _soul _of a god to my Mistress, Lady Death. Rare a soul indeed, for how often do immortals succumb to such ends, and she will be most pleased."_

_Loki cannot speak. He knows he cannot. For if he could, he is certain he would beg the Titan to stop... to please, please, please STOP._

_He can only writhe, and choke, and whimper pathetically as the life of him is destroyed._

_And he can feel suddenly the violation of his mind, searching and invasive strands of energy, coursing through his thoughts… his memories and emotions and…_

_No, no, no, no…_

_Stealing everything… taking it from him… away, away… nothing is his anymore…_

_Nothing is his…_

_Thanos grins cruelly._

"_Oh, little god, how you have _suffered_ already." He says, almost softly, almost tenderly._

_His hand moves up to cup Loki's cheek, wet now with tears._

"_Such _hurt_ in you…"_

_Loki blinks, blinded by fresh tears, his head shaking._

"_Is it a wonder you hide it so well then with supposed rage?" The Titan goes on, ignoring the god's feeble protests. "For indeed would it not be seen pathetic, your every, devious action wrought by emotional desolation? You long to be _loved_, Loki, son of no one. And yet only have you ever been cast aside, unwanted. Indeed, who could love a _wretch_ like you? When you cannot even love yourself. So much hurt, child. So much fear and sadness and lost, hopeless _longing _within you. Would it not have ceased your raised arms, to only hear the words 'you are loved.'? _

_Oh, so very pathetic. You are but a ruined boy acting out in a simpering cry for help, begging to be heard and shown acknowledgment of _worth_, for your inability to believe it in yourself. You must be _shown_. And both Odin and Thor are fool for not having seen what was so entirely plain and clear. Your hatred is no more real than one of your pretty illusions, godling. You cling to it only to cover the repulsiveness of your sentiment. To hide from others and yourself the weakness of your dictating emotions. How such emotion rules you, _sensitive_ soul that you are."_

_Thanos sneers, disgusted._

"_Oh, poor, _poor_, little Loki. You want so _badly_ for your false family to love you as you love them. And oh how it _hurts _you to know that they do _not_. That no one loves you as that. For a creature of deception as you are is unlovable, and in your heart of hearts, you know this too."_

_And now Loki is shaking, trembling so terribly, there is no hope of staying it, nor the flow of tears down his face, and he wishes already he would just die. That this mad Titan would spare him this further torment and humiliation and drain the last of him dry._

_But the fates have never been so kind to him, and it is just as he feels his vision begin to fail entirely, the dark of unconsciousness pressing in around, death seeming but a breath away, Thanos lets go, and Loki crashes, face against the hard ground, body held up only by virtue of the creatures still grasping his arms._

_He gasps, utterly weakened, gasp sliding into a choked sob. And he hates himself. He hates himself completely._

_His magic is _gone_. It is gone almost _wholly_. He can no longer feel but the faintest wisp of it left. Only enough to keep him from death._

_He cannot recover from this._

"_He will be no trouble." Thanos says dryly. "Hold him down, strip him of his armor and then do with him what you please. But do not kill him. Not yet. I think I may find use of the child still, given time. His compliance must first be won."_

_The hooded being at last rises, turning to the others._

"_You heard our Lord!" He snaps._

_And the creatures comply without further prompting, tearing Loki back and pinning him with unnatural ease to the ground._

_He can do nothing as they claw away and strip him bare, leave him naked and exposed and without protection at all. Can do nothing as they drag him from the place, and toss him elsewhere in to some crude rendering of a cell. _

_They beat him at first, regularly and finely, and it is nothing Loki has not experienced before._

_He curses them and promises revenge, plans and plots and works his mind on escape._

_He maintains that shred of dignity he is certain for the passage of at least a fortnight. What little dignity he has. Pretending still he is a Prince, demanding accordance and acknowledgment of his rank…_

_They do not listen._

_And then they begin their torture._

_And Loki begs…_

_He _begs_…_

_It does nothing._

_Begging turns back to anger. _

_Again with threats and indignation._

_For the effort, they rip out his tongue._

_It grows back after a week._

_They rip it out again._

_And now he bargains, pleads and promises and offers._

_He tries every trick he knows, every turn of phrase and wordplay. Tries so hard to charm and seduce and coax and deal. This has always worked. It has always. When there was nothing else. When he had only his voice, only his words. He could always _convince_._

_But they will not hear him._

_They will not respond._

_His wit is as nothing to them, a useless and meaningless thing._

_He gives up, and he weeps._

_And he hates himself._

_And when he screams for Thor, he hates himself all the worse._

Thor pushes too hard this time, and Loki snaps.

"Thor, I have told you, it is only dreams. And _ever_ have I dreamed. You know this. Will you _not_ leave me be?"

Thor blinks, somewhat taken aback, his hands dropping away.

Loki will not tell him what is wrong.

He will not say what troubles his mind.

Has not since their escape from Asgard, and their coming here.

Loki does well to cover the presence of his discontent.

Ever has he done well at this.

At convincing others of his good fairing.

It is a dangerous and alarming trait of his, Thor has only in recent times come to realize.

The very thing which for so long kept him ignorant to his little brother's suffering.

That… and his own, blind arrogance.

He has become determined then not to let Loki hide himself in such a way ever again. To make his brother understand he should bear no shame in his emotions and thoughts, or in the sharing of pain and seeking of help.

Loki had for so long been under the impression that any such behavior would win him only ridicule and derision.

… For so long, Loki had been _right_.

But no more.

Thor would _listen _now, and give his unerring support. He _would_.

It was only a matter of convincing Loki completely.

But Thor was not fool enough to think it so simple as all that.

There had been many times… many times, and he felt sick with the memories of such, when as younger gods, Loki had come to him in distress, seeking comfort, and Thor had _laughed _at him, made light of his tears, telling him so carelessly that warriors of the Aesir did not cry, telling him those days he found himself irritable and unkind that Loki only shamed himself by weeping as a child.

It was what _he_ had been taught, and he'd thought nothing of Loki's more sensitive nature, and how the same lessons might differently affect him.

He knew now then it would take long before Loki could trust him to such an extent again, if he ever could.

Patient, he reminds himself. He needed to be patient.

He needed not to push.

Loki would talk to him in his own time, if he would at all.

"I am sorry brother." He says quietly, after a moment. "I did not mean to seem forceful. I was only concerned. Will you forgive me?"

Loki glances back at him, arms folding, making a show of frowning in displeasure.

For an instant, Thor feels a spike of worry, afraid he really HAS upset Loki this time and that the inevitable fight is to follow.

But then suddenly, the younger god breaks into a reserved smile, and he laughs softly.

"I forgive you brother." He says. "Lummox that you are."

And Thor is so overwhelmed with relief, he doesn't even think as he pitches forward and takes Loki up in an embrace, crushing him against his chest.

"Thor!" Loki struggles, trying to push the elder prince off.

Thor only laughs.

"I do love you Loki." He says.

Loki makes a few, dispassionate attempts more to break free of the hug before he sighs, giving up completely. His arms come up, returning the embrace as he says in a near soundless voice…

"And I you Thor."

For a few moments longer, they stay like that, before finally Thor lets go, leaning back. He reaches out, ruffling Loki's hair, and Loki ducks away, swatting at his hand.

"You need a trim brother." The thunder god observes.

"No more than you." Loki shoots back, eyes narrowing. "And besides which, I like my hair like this."

He reaches back, pushing it back off is face, smoothing it behind his ears.

Thor smiles.

"It does suit you." He nods. "Remember when you had it sheared almost to your scalp? You wore it as such for many years."

And Loki's cheeks actually flush. His eyes dart away.

"… I had thought it was the way a true warrior should always wear it." He says quietly.

"Aye." Thor replies. "It is not so unusual brother. I have noted that this Realms warriors are required to shear their hair such, close to the scalp."

Loki looks up at him.

"Truly?" He asks. "It did not used to be so."

Thor shakes his head.

"No. But it is so now. It is required to join in their militaries and naval fleets."

Loki's brow furrows in thought then, for a moment, growing silent.

"… Perhaps then I shall shear it to my scalp again," he says finally. "to prove my dedication to serving in their guard."

Thor smiles.

"That is an excellent idea Loki." He agrees, nodding. "And anyway, I have always admired your features framed by a shorter cut. It brings out the refinement of them, when your hair is sheared so."

Loki can't help the smile which tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he nods in return.

"Then it is settled." He says. "I shall cut it tonight."

"Very good." Thor replies. "Now, come with me to breakfast Loki."

He reaches out, taking the younger god by the hand, beginning to tug him.

The smile immediately goes from Loki's face, and he falls back, pulling his hand free.

"Oh no, Thor." He says, shaking his head. "No. I do not wish to."

"Come now brother, do not be so silly." Thor shoots back. "You have been cooped up in this room for two days and a night, and it is time you set to familiarizing yourself with your new surroundings."

"I already have." Loki says quickly.

Thor frowns.

"I thought you said…"

"While you slept, I have made my lay of the place most thoroughly." Loki cuts him short.

Thor gives him a reproachful look.

"You are a liar brother." He says.

And Loki grins.

"Well of course." He answers.

Thor sighs, exasperated.

"Well then, come and make yourself better acquainted with your new shield companions. You understand better than most the importance of knowing well who guards your back in battle. And we will be in many battles together with them Loki."

Loki groans, falling back against the pillows.

"But Thor, I do not _want_ to." He whines childishly, covering his face in his hands.

Thor chuckles.

"Do not be frightened brother." He says.

Loki peaks at him from between his fingers, frowning and narrowing his eyes.

"I am not _frightened_." He says sharply.

"Well you are in the least hesitant Loki. Come, all you must do is be yourself, and you will make easy friends of them all."

Loki scoffs at this.

"Thor, you know very well no one has ever liked me for being _myself_."

"Loki, that is not true." Thor says seriously.

Loki smiles ruefully.

"You do not count brother." He says, poking the elder god in the shoulder.

"I am serious Loki." Thor grabs hold of his wrist. "Please, join me for breakfast. I will ask nothing else of you for at least a week. I swear."

Again, Loki groans, rolling his eyes.

"Thooor…"

And Thor once more laughs, jumping from the bed and dragging Loki off with him, knowing already he has won.

/

**AN: Okay, so, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. They'll be more interaction with the other Avengers in the next, I promise. Let me know what you think, and if it's a critical review, I'd like you to log in so I can address it. I don't like not being able to address my readers, especially if they have a complaint. So I won't tolerate that kind of thing, and I've got this story set to moderate reviews now from anonymous readers, so if you leave a negative review without signing in, it won't show up, and I won't read it. Bottom line. You'll only be wasting your time. If you do sign in, great, I'll leave it up, no matter what it says, unless it's pure vitriol, and I'll be happy to address you as well. Don't be scared, I just like to talk to readers if they have an issue with my stories.**

**And a disclaimer, since I've caused some confusion with my last chapter. Loki is not gay in this story. Truthfully, I don't think you can say what Loki is at all. He's a god, who's been alive for thousands of years, and like I said, has likely experienced everything you can imagine and then multiply that a thousand fold. You can't relate to it, because the average, mortal lifespan is like, 70 or 80 years. So again, Loki isn't gay. He's just been alive a hell of a long time, and due to that, is probably a lot more open and accepting towards trying different things.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25:**

They walk side by side into the breakfast lounge, and everybody freezes, eyes wide and staring at the pair of Norse gods as they draw nearer.

Tony drops his cup of coffee, cursing sharply as the hot liquid scalds his hand.

No one else moves, and Thor is the first to speak then.

"Good morrow friends!" He booms loudly, slapping his hand down over Loki's shoulder.

Loki rolls his eyes, himself remaining silent.

Everyone is staring at him, and he stares back.

"I bring glad tidings!" Thor continues, seemingly oblivious to the glaring match going on. "My brother has deigned to join us for breakfast this day!"

"Well isn't that nice." Tony says, still running his hand under cold water at the sink. "I wonder what was wrong with yesterday? Or the day before that?"

"Stark." Natasha shoots, voice thick with warning.

"What?" Tony shoots back, seemingly innocent.

The assassin only rolls her eyes, glancing away.

Thor frowns.

"Is it not happy news?" He asks.

Loki smirks, arms folding over his chest.

"I think, Thor, not for them. They would prefer I stay holed up and unseen. What is that queer little saying you mortals have? Out of sight, out of mind?"

Bruce and Tony frown. Steve looks decidedly nervous, and Clint looks like he's about to spontaneously combust.

Thor glances at Loki a moment, worried, before casting his eyes back to his comrades.

"This is not true, is it friends?" He asks, sincerely concerned. "You would welcome my brother and treat him as your equal, would you not?"

"Hey, if he treats us like equals, no prob." Tony replies, coming around the counter, moving to the dining table where everyone else is seated and pulling out a chair. He flops down gracelessly, and Loki wrinkles his nose.

"Well of course he will friends!" Thor says, as though it should be a foregone conclusion. "You will Loki, yes?" He looks to the younger god.

Loki smiles charmingly at him.

"Of course I will Thor." He says. "I would not dare think of treating them elsewise."

"Yeah fuckin' right." Clint mumbles under his breath, hands gripping dangerously tight round his mug.

There comes a tense silence then, everyone staring and uneasy, before at last, the others go back to their food, immersing themselves in it, trying to ignore the discomfort.

Thor seems unaware of it as he guides Loki towards the table, pulling out a chair and very nearly forcing him down to sit in it.

Loki swats him away.

"I think I can manage well enough on my own Thor, thank you." He says, lowering himself with fluid delicacy into the seat, sitting with straight backed posture, every part of him seeming controlled and contained.

Thor just grins, before moving away, towards the counter and coffee pot.

Everyone keeps stealing glances at the trickster god, and Loki nearly begins to laugh at how very without subtly they are, despite their best efforts.

He looks back at them every now and then, smirking as their eyes shift quickly away, and he wonders if they think they're really fooling him.

The only ones who don't glance away are Natasha and Clint, and for them, he gives a full show of _teeth_.

"Anthony" Thor starts from the counter, having gotten himself a cup of coffee by now. "What you shared with me this past morning, what did you call it?"

"Cereal." Tony answers flatly, again glancing at Loki.

Loki is seeming to examine his fingernails now, expression utterly bored.

"Yes! Cereal!" Thor says excitedly. "I think my brother would enjoy this meal. Would you be willing to help me prepare him a dish?"

Tony shoots a glare at the thunder god, frowning.

"Twinkle toes over there can serve himself, big man." He says defensively. "Tony Stark doesn't serve other people."

"Yes, but I am not _other people_ as you say, Man of Iron." Loki says slyly, finally looking up. "I am a god."

He grins, and it takes every ounce of Tony's will power not to launch himself across the table and start choking the son of a bitch.

"But Anthony," Thor begins, missing the exchange. "I do not know how to prepare it as you did, and neither does Loki. We require assistance in the matter."

"Damn it Thor!" Tony turns back to him, losing his patience.

Loki is unnerving the fuck out of him, with that shit eating grin of his.

"All you do is poor some of the cereal from the box, which you'll find in the cabinet behind you, into a bowl, poor milk into the bowl with it, shove a spoon in, and _wala_! Instant cereal!" He nearly yells.

Thor looks taken aback, blinking, and suddenly the amusement drains from Loki's face.

"You would take care in how you speak to my brother, Man of Iron." He says, voice eerily calm. "He is a Prince of Asgard. True royalty, descendent from a long line of others the same. Not merely some little man who pretends himself to be."

"You son of a…"

"Guys, cool it!" Steve finally interjects, feeling himself growing queasy.

"But he…!" Tony starts, and Steve just shakes his head.

"I'm telling you, _both_ of you, right now, drop it!"

Tony looks like he's about to say something else, mouth dropping open. Steve only continues to stare back at him, and finally the billionaire falls back in his seat with a huff, folding his arms and looking away, mumbling something incoherent.

Loki only smiles, going back to examining his nails.

Thor, meanwhile, has already begun attempting to put the cereal together, making bowls both for himself and Loki.

He comes back towards the dining table a few minutes later, balancing the dishes while he attempts also to hold his cup of coffee, setting the bowl down in front of the younger god before taking a seat beside him.

Loki stares down at the meal, frowning vaguely.

"Thor, this contains milk." He says after a moment.

Thor grins.

"Yes. It is quite good brother. Try it. You will enjoy it."

"Milk is for infants." Loki replies flatly.

"Well then it's perfect for you." Tony says, bringing his cup of coffee up to his lips. "Considering how much Thor _babies_ you and all."

Loki's eyes shift to him, narrowing.

Tony smiles back before tipping the cup to drink.

"Wittle bitty baby…" he mocks, hushed.

Loki gestures with his hand beneath the table, and in the next instant, the coffee from Tony's mug sprays up, into his face, and the billionaire sputters, shocked, dropping the cup.

"What the hell…!" He gasps, completely confused.

"Klutz." Bruce chuckles at him. "That's the second time this morning you've spilt your drink like that man."

Tony shoots him a withering glare.

Loki represses the smile threatening the tug at his lips, turning his attention back to the bowl of cereal.

He shakes his head.

"I will not eat this Thor." He says quietly.

"But Loki, you must eat." Thor insists.

"Perhaps later." He replies. "I am not hungry now as is."

Tony is still wiping coffee from his face, muttering profanities.

Clint's frown deepens, watching him, before glancing back to the trickster god.

He can feel his hands tightening to fists.

He hasn't told anyone yet about his encounter with Loki last night.

Of course, Jarvis's security feed somehow missed recording the whole thing, and the archer doesn't need to ask how.

He'd lain awake all night thinking of it, of what Loki had said to him, at the fucking _gall_ of him, working himself up more and more into a near uncontrollable rage.

And he can feel what little control he has on it now slipping rapidly through his fingers.

"… You did that!" He snaps suddenly.

Everyone at the table looks to him, faces puzzled.

Loki tilts his head.

"Pardon?" He asks.

"You!" Clint points an accusing finger at him. "You did something to make Tony's coffee splash up into his face!"

Loki smiles.

"Perhaps." He replies. "But one cannot say he did not deserve it."

Clint stares back at him, appalled.

"Are you fucking _nuts_?"

Thor glances to Tony, just noticing for the first time the state of him, and he chuckles heartily.

"A bit of fun my friends." He says, as though that should be explanation enough.

"_Fun_?" Clint growls. "That coffee was _hot_! It could have burnt the shit out of him!"

"I made certain to cool it beforehand." Loki says easily. "It did your Man of Iron no harm."

Tony looks completely lost, and Clint throws his hands up in anger.

"Oh, well, that just makes everything okay then!" He snaps.

"Clint…" Natasha reaches out, placing a hand gently along his wrist. "it's okay."

"It's _not_ okay!" Clint shoots viciously, glaring at her.

"Friends, friends…" Thor holds up his hands, placating. "When Loki is near, you are to expect acts of mischief. It is what he does."

"What he does?" Clint says, indignant.

"Yes," Thor nods, smiling softly. "Always has it been my little brother who has kept our senses sharp and minds alert. Around him, it becomes necessity, and he has made better warriors out of all of us for it. But ever are his pranks harmless and meant only in fun. You should not take it to heart."

For a moment, Clint stares incredulously back at the thunder god, the rest sat in awkward silence, unsure of how to respond.

But abruptly, the archer pushes himself to his feet.

"Okay." He says. "Alright. We shouldn't take it to heart?"

And he steps around the table, beginning towards Loki.

"Clint, what are you doing?" Natasha stands.

He ignores her, coming to a stop directly before the trickster.

Loki looks up at him, smiling softly.

Clint's face is twisted in a scowl of distain.

"We shouldn't take it to heart, then he shouldn't take this to heart either."

Loki can see what he intends, and he allows it, smile turning to a grin as suddenly Clint rears his arm back, backhanding the god as hard as he can across the mouth.

The blow does nothing to move Loki, who sits the same, still grinning.

Thor shoots to his feet, eyes wide, the same as everyone else.

And an instant later, Clint is hunched over, grasping his hand and turning away.

"Mother fuc…" he gasps, pain ratcheting up his arm, into his shoulder.

He realizes suddenly his hand is broken.

"Fucking fu… fuck…" He gasps again, stumbling away.

"You… you broke my hand!" He shouts, taking another step forward before turning, looking back to Loki.

Loki frowns slightly then, before waving a finger.

"Ah, ah. This is misrepresentation of facts, little Hawk." He replies. "It is more, _you_ broke your hand striking my face."

"You _dare_ strike my brother Barton?" Thor booms suddenly, stepping around, seemingly unconcerned by it being the archer who's been injured and not Loki.

Loki reaches out, taking hold of Thor's wrist, staying him.

"It is fine Thor." He says calmly.

"It is _not _fine!" The thunder god says. "He attacked you openly!"

"And he has learned for the third time a foolhardy endeavor it is. He may be slow to comprehend, but even the dullest of wits will eventually understand to touch a heated iron will result in their hand being burned."

"This is… this is insane!" Clint snaps.

He turns to his teammates.

"Don't you see how insane this is?" He asks, voice urgent and thick with pain. "Don't you see how _dangerous _he is!?"

"Clint, you need to calm down." Natasha says, stepping towards him.

He glares at her in astonishment.

"The hell I do!" He spits. "Don't you see what he's doing? He's…" he gestured wildly back at the two gods. "he's ripping us apart, just… just like last time! He's…"

"Clint," Bruce steps in, standing. "calm down man. You…" he shakes his head. "you're the one who hit him, remember."

Clint gapes, unable to believe this.

"What the fuck!" He snaps. "What the fuck! Has he… has he got you all under some kind of mind control or something? What the fuck is going on here?"

"I have them under no such influence or spell." Loki says evenly, calmly.

"He does not." Thor affirms, voice edged hard and angry.

The tension in the room is almost unbearable.

"Clint, just calm down." Steve tries now. "We'll… we'll work this out. We'll…"

"Stop TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN!" The archer screams, losing it completely now. "This mother fucker has got you all fucked in the heads, and you're all to damned STUPID to see it! He… he came down to the training room last night while I was there!"

He turns, pointing accusingly at Loki.

Loki doesn't move, staring back at him, face impassive.

"He fucking BYSPASSED your security systems like they were nothing Tony!" Clint looks to the billionaire.

Tony looks concerned.

"And?" Steve asks.

"And WHAT?" Clint shoots.

"So he bypassed Jarvis and got into the training room. What did he do down there?"

"What do you mean, what did he do?" The archer asks. "Isn't the fact he broke protocol enough?"

"Well we invited him to stay here Clint." Bruce says, trying to stay calm, feeling himself begin to wind just slightly with tension. "That means by default he kind of has access to the same facilities we do. Him not using the scanner to get in is sort of a formality, don't you think?"

Clint just glares, mouth hung open and silent.

"Did he hurt you?" Steve asks.

Clint turns to him.

"_What_?" He asks.

"Did he hurt you? Did Loki attack you in any way?"

For a moment, Clint says nothing, just staring, before he begins to stammer.

"Well… well n-no… No. Not _physically_, but…"

"Then what's the problem soldier?" Steve presses.

Again, Clint falls silent, eyes wide and furious.

Long, strained moments pass.

And then he shakes his head.

"Don't you idiots see?" He asks. "It's… it's the things he says! He's manipulating us!"

"My brother is not _manipulating _you." Thor steps in again, unable to keep the rage from his voice. "Believe me Barton, if he were, you would not even _begin_ to realize it."

Natasha frowns, feeling herself bristle at the memory of Loki's words, telling her how he had tricked her into thinking she had tricked him, knowing she would go to Bruce and push and push until he lost control… realizing later it all had been true after thinking on it. Realizing her wariness now towards Loki. Her hesitation to engage him. And it makes her _mad_, because she's never hesitated to engage _anyone_. Never met anyone she wasn't sure she could handle. Only him… _him_, she knows deep in her gut she _can't_… And she's sure she _hates_ him for it, almost as much as she hates him for what he did to Clint…

But she's scared… because she doesn't want Clint near him… doesn't want to give Loki any reason to set his eyes on Clint… to set his _mind_ on him…

She wants him to back down right now. She wants him to forget it.

_Just forget it Clint_…

Clint whirls, staring at the thunder god only a moment, scowling, before turning to Tony.

"What the hell about what he just did to Tony?" He snaps, changing subjects. "Don't any of you have a _problem_ with that?"

Tony fidgets, looking intensely uncomfortable.

Steve frowns.

"I'm not for playing pranks while on the job." He starts…

"_Well_?" Clint presses, holding his hands up.

"But it's not unheard of among the group." He goes on, unfazed. "We've all played practical jokes on one another. As long as it's off duty and doesn't hurt anyone…"

Clint turns to Tony, as though imploring the billionaire to say something.

Tony stares back.

"What?" He asks, nervous.

"Tony, did Loki… I mean, what he did, did it hurt you in any way?" Steve questions instead.

Tony frowns, glancing at Clint before averting his gaze to the Captain.

"Uh… no…" he says. "Not… not really. Just sort of surprised me… I… I guess."

Steve nods, looking back to the archer.

"Then we don't have a problem, really." He says. "Unless we set specific ground rules that no one can play pranks on anyone else, as long as Loki doesn't hurt anyone, we can't fairly exclude him from it just because of who he is."

Loki smiles at that.

"Perhaps you lot are not so drab as you gave the initial impression of." He says.

Steve shoots him a look, pointing.

"Don't push it Loki." He says.

And Loki just shrugs, leaning his chin against his fist, sighing as though bored.

"You know what, fuck this!" Clint says suddenly. "Fuck ALL of this, and fuck all of you! You want him? You can fucking _have_ him! I'm out!"

"Clint, come on man, don't be like that…" Bruce starts as the archer begins towards the door.

But Clint just ignores him, blowing by.

He doesn't stop, disappearing a moment later through the entry, turning the corner and vanishing from sight.

No one says anything as Natasha follows after him, wordless.

Bruce falls back in his seat, running a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly.

Thor remains standing, looking as irritated as any of them have ever seen him.

Loki remains sitting, giving no indication that any of what just happened has had any affect on him at all.

Tony feels a chill run down his spine at the sight, before he coughs conspicuously, and comments humorously, because that's what he does when he's uncomfortable…

"Well, that went about as well as last time." He says. "Gold stars all around, eh?"

"Tony," Steve says tiredly. "just shut up."

"What?" Tony sits up straighter. "Why are you telling me to shut up? How is this my fau…"

"He's going to tell Fury." Bruce interrupts.

Everyone looks to him.

The scientist fidgets nervously, pressing his glasses up his nose.

"Clint, he's upset, and I think he's going to tell Fury about Loki." He repeats.

"This is unacceptable." Thor begins. "Your Director is beyond reason. He…"

"Sir, Director Nick Fury is on the line." Jarvis suddenly disrupts.

"What?" Tony starts, eyes wide. "That's… wait… he just left. There's no _way_ he could've told him that quickly."

"Well we were going to have to tell him eventually anyway." Steve says, sounding unsure.

"But now is not the ideal time for it!" Thor snaps, agitated. "He is still doubtless incensed by mine and Loki's escape from his flying craft, and Loki's refusal to provide his wanted information."

Loki begins to chuckle, clearly highly amused by it all.

Steve glares at him before looking to Thor.

"Yeah," he says. "but that doesn't mean…"

"Sir, Director Fury says it is urgent. He is demanding you take the call now." Jarvis cuts in.

"Well shit…" Tony throws his hands up. "Put him through, I guess."

"Yes Sir." Jarvis confirms.

Tony swallows.

"Well here we go…" he says, uneasy as he glances between Loki and Thor.

A moment later, Fury's voice comes through the intercom, and he sounds pissed.

"Stark, you got everyone there?"

"You mean the whole team?" Tony answers.

"No, I mean all those bimbos you bring back with you every night and can't get rid of in the mornings!" Fury snaps. "Yes, I mean the whole team!"

"Uhh… yeah." Tony replies. "Well, Clint and Natasha kind of just stormed out, but…"

"I don't give a damn. Just shut up and listen." Fury cuts him short. "There's a terrorist attack in progress, downtown Manhattan, as we speak. It looks like they're targeting Central Park. I don't know who the hell these guys are, but they're packing some serious fucking fire power. They've already set off some kind of bomb and killed civilians. I need all of you to intercept and take them out, before they kill anyone else or cause any more damage. ASAP. Got it?"

"Damn…" Bruce mutters.

"Sir, yes Sir." Tony salutes, despite there being no video feed.

"Just get on it." The Director spits. "Fury out."

The line goes dead, and for a moment, the room falls into silence.

"Well, I guess Fury's about to find out the hard way." Steve finally says. "Or the easy way. Loki, you ready to go out there?" He looks to the god.

Loki smirks at him.

"Allow me then to demonstrate my preparedness." He replies. "Central Park. That is the place my brother and I traveled back to Asgard from, is it not?"

Steve nods.

"It is." He answers.

"Then I am already there." Loki says back.

And in a blinding flash of green and white, he is gone.

Thor hesitates only a moment before he moves to the balcony doors, tossing them open and throwing himself into the air, taking off with hammer in hand.

Everyone else is left speechless and stunned, sitting stupidly a long, few seconds, before they snap out of it and are left scrambling after, having first to suit up.

/

**AN: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last time, and let me know what you think!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26:**

Loki lands.

Chaos ensues.

It doesn't take much to locate where these "terrorists", as Fury referred to them as, are.

Loki need only follow the sound of gunfire and explosions, and the screaming and crying of humans.

It's a sound he's become well accustomed to, screaming and crying humans.

And he's found he often wonders at it.

Humans are so weak, so frail.

Even those times, those rare times, Asgard has found its borders breached, and the city invaded, never has Loki seen her citizens scream and cry so. Even the women and children of Asgard have proven time and again to be made of something of so much greater resiliency than these humans. And always, those times, they were faced with enemies far more menacing and sinister than anything he's sure Midgard has ever known.

He supposes it isn't quite fair, to compare mere mortals to gods. But then, one can't always help such things. Not when he so often thinks of Asgard. Not when he…

Viciously, he pushes the thoughts down, refocusing.

People are running past him, hardly noticing him, it seems, save for the odd look here and there. Likely due to his dress, donned in full battle armor as he is.

He smirks at that.

Do any of them recognize him? It appears not.

And he thinks how foolish they are, running in such a blind panic from others of their own kind, unheedingly past a being of power beyond their own, meandering comprehension.

Loki feels a strong surge of disgust as he watches them a moment. They're so… pathetic. Pushing and shoving past one another.

He knows if they weren't out in such an open space, if they were trapped within walls, surely they would trample each other to death.

Gods, but does he hates humans.

He thinks briefly about simply leaving them to their unfortunate fates. They hardly deserve better.

But then he thinks of Thor, and he knows Thor would be disappointed in him, likely even angry.

And wasn't the entire point of this seemingly hopeless exercise to try and prove to Thor, and to himself perhaps most of all, that he _could _do good, that he could be a… a _hero_, or whatever meaningless term someone who does good is titled with? Wasn't the entire purpose of his being _here_ to prove he could do the right thing, for once in his sorry, mistake riddled life?

No, it wouldn't do to step away now, not in the very moment he was being given a chance to show himself capable of more than just destruction and chaos and _weakness_.

If he could just do this one thing, if he could save these sorry, pitiable creatures from their own destruction, well then, maybe they all would finally see. All of Thor's Avenger friend's. Maybe they would be more willing to accept him into their ranks, and maybe… perhaps even… they would find something of value in him, maybe even want to… not befriend, because certainly Loki had no desire to befriend _them_, but every now and then perhaps seek his company, and find some amount of pleasure in it.

Yes, Loki thinks, such an outcome would be desirable. Not because he truly cares what the mortals think of him. But there never has been anything wrong with being… liked…

He's snapped from his thoughts by another, loud explosion and a smattering of gunfire, more people emerging, running towards and past him in sheer horror, faces twisted in fear and confusion.

He wastes no more time.

In an instant, he teleports, and lands squarely in the middle of the attack.

A quick look around, and it is obvious these men, whoever they are, are interested only in exercising their power.

There are several, dead humans, lying in pools of their own blood, many of them mangled beyond easy recognition, strewn about the area, over an expanse of perhaps several thousand square feet.

And the men, the "terrorists", surround him, some dozen of them, touting their weapons high for all to see, brandishing them and waving them about in some masculine display of authority.

Loki rolls his eyes.

One of them is shouting, some nonsense about a new world order, and oppression, and whatever else. Loki is hardly listening, though what trickles in, he staunchly ignores whatever familiarity it awakens inside, his own voice declaring something not so dissimilar, though in words far more eloquent and sure.

The one directly before him, sporting some rather large looking firearm, Loki thinks they're also referred to as, has just finally noticed him.

Loki smiles his way.

He wonders at the human's lack of astuteness when it comes to seidr. At how very unaware they are when such energy is no less than rippling, distilling the air around them.

He can easily come and go around even other skilled mages without them ever realizing. He's done so more times in the past than he can readily recall, those times he felt the need for such stealth, to go undetected.

But he is hardly trying here. In fact, very much the opposite. He appeared without any real hint of subtly, and yet these ridiculous men hadn't even noticed.

Their deaths, then, will not go undeserved. Anyone who lets an enemy sneak up on them thusly deserves no less, Loki is sure.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man is shouting, hefting his weapon and pointing it directly at the mischief god.

Loki's smile widens to a grin.

"No one you know, I am certain." He replies smoothly. And, very deliberately, he takes a step forward.

The man can't quite hide the nervousness from his eyes, and both hands move to the weapon now, aiming it more steadily.

"Stop right there freak show!" He shouts. "Get down! Get on your fuckin' stomach before I blow your head off!"

Loki continues to grin.

"Oh, is _that_ what you will do?" He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The man dares to take a step forward.

"I'm warning you mother fucker! Down, now!"

"I think not." Loki replies calmly. And he waits.

And the man fires at him.

Loki waves a gesture, and the bullets drop to the ground, mid-flight, barely heard as they clank metallic along the concrete.

The man stares, wide eyed and mouth agape.

Loki advances, and again, the man fires.

Loki almost wants to sigh in exasperation as again he waves the bullets dead.

Are these humans really so uncreative, so dependent upon one mode of attack? When one method fails to work, you do not waste time trying it again only to the same affect. You move on to another, and if necessary, another again, until you come upon a tactic which bears actual success.

But he supposes he expects too much from the mortals, meager as their minds are.

The man keeps firing, and firing, doing nothing to slow Loki's advance, until the god is upon him, and the man's face is twisted in fear.

He turns to run, dropping his weapon, and Loki reaches out, grabbing him round the nap of his neck, pulling him back.

The man screams, and Loki hears the shift behind him.

He turns, dragging the struggling human and holding him against his chest, just as a barrage of bullets sprays out from another of the terrorists guns, intended for him, Loki knows, but this little man will serve as a fine shield.

Loki can feel the vibrations through the mortal's frame as the bullets sink into and explode within his body, a barely audible cry escaping past the man's lips before he falls limp and dead in the god's hands.

Loki tosses him aside, and grins at the appalled looking human who just shot his own comrade dead.

"The fuck…" the man breaths out, eyes huge.

Loki steps towards him, face pulling into something quizzical.

"Why do you human's attack each other so?" He asks, genuinely curious.

He continues to step forward, even as the man takes aim.

"I find it most unusual behavior. In Asgard, in all her countless millennia, never has war or battle of serious nature broken out among or between her inhabitants. Oh, we quarrel, certainly. Individual spats and challenges issued. But we are not so hostile towards each other as to slaughter our own kind in droves, as you humans seem want to do. We seek, each of us, the protection of our Realm, and those people of it. And yet you…"

He stops, watching the man momentarily as he aims with shaking hands his gun towards the god's face.

"You humans think nothing of killing your own kind over things as petty as border disputes, or… religious beliefs, or…" he laughs lightly. "_currency_. It is nothing to you to raise arms against your own kind simply because you can. Simply for the feeling of power it imbues you with.

It is something I do not understand. You already are such a weak, powerless race. Already so alone within the Nine, thought so little of by the rest. You do yourselves, and this pathetic rock you live on no favors by slaughtering each other. Would it not serve you lot better to join and work as one? And yet you seem content in killing each other off. Why should any of the rest of the Nine's inhabitants feel threatened by a race of beings idiotic enough to kill themselves? Surely, no such race is any threat at all. Is it any wonder you all have fallen into such detached obscurity from the rest of the universe?"

The man fires, and Loki waves the bullets down.

"Wh… what are you? So… some kind of mutant?" The man stammers, stepping back.

Loki continues forward.

"These _mutants_ I keep hearing referred to…" he begins smoothly. "they are mortal, as the rest of you, yes?"

The man doesn't reply.

Loki shakes his head, waving down another spray of bullets.

"I know not of what power these mutants of yours possess, but I am no mortal. So, no. You face something of far greater menace, little man."

Again, the man lets loose with his weapon, but by then, Loki is feet upon him, and he reaches out, not bothering to defuse the bullets this time, letting them hit him, compacting and flattening against his chest as he takes hold of the guns nozzle and tears the weapon from the man's hands, crushing and breaking it apart before the mortals eyes.

And man's face is a mask of terror, and he turns to run, as the other had before him, and this time, when Loki grabs hold of him, he kills him himself.

He can feel the current of his own magic, as it ripples through his insides and transfers from fingertips, into the body he holds, expanding and working with a burning _cold_.

The man dies almost instantly, the blood of his exploded insides leaking out from every orifice.

Loki drops him, hearing the movement behind.

It's all the warning he has as he turns, and sees what appears as a miniature one of what the mortal's call rockets, flying with exceptional speed towards him. Loki thinks, in the split second before it hits, that he recognizes the weapon. An RPG, or an MPG, they call it, or some such nonsense.

It hits him.

It _hurts_, and he goes flying back several feet from the impact.

And suddenly all amusement drains from the god.

"I got him!" The man is shouting. "I killed him!"

_No, little mortal_… Loki thinks. _You cannot kill a god_.

He staggers up to his knees, smoke rising in curling patterns up off his armor where the projectile had hit, and Loki scowls down at the singed, burnt leather of his breastplate.

His eyes flash, and he looks up, smile gone.

The man holding the rocket launcher has only an instant to register the expression before Loki throws his hand out, and a blade like liquid comes flying from his fingertips, sinking less than a fraction of a second later into the man's throat.

The man falls, dead.

Loki is on his feet, and there are further shouts, screams of mixed horror and anger and panic.

He feels more of their bullets impact against his back, pelting against and through his cloak, and as he turns, he releases more blades, meeting their mark with brutal efficiency, killing two others, the same as the first, their throats sliced through like hot butter.

Blood pours from their necks in streams, and Loki pays it no mind.

There seems a greater panic then even before, a cacophony of screaming and crying and uninhibited terror, people running and scrambling and trampling over one another in their haste to get out. But Loki thinks not of it. He has lost his taste for the game, and wishes suddenly to end it, and quickly. He grows weary of these humans and their pathetic toys they call weapons.

More bullets fly at him, and another of those rocket like things.

Loki has no desire to be hit by such again, his muscles aching from the impact of the first, and so he throws up a shield, and the missal hits, exploding, the shockwave of it rippling over the magical barrier, its energy absorbed.

Several more come at him, and each one, he deflects the same, advancing on each man who fires, taking hold their forms systematically and undoing their insides as he does.

Until there is naught but a single man left, holding some sort of device in his shaking hands, thumb poised over some button along its flat surface.

His eyes are huge with unmitigated fear as he stares at the god, and Loki stares back, head cocked to one side, eyes narrowed.

"I… I-I-I'll b-blow this place to hell if you come any closer!" The man cries. "I'll do it, I swear! Ev… everyone'll die. They'll all die!"

Loki has no idea what the man is blubbering on about, or what Hel has to do with it.

Certainly, the foolish mortal can't possibly think some silly explosion of his own devising would be powerful enough to open a portal to his daughter's Realm. And anyway, what sort of threat is that? Loki has been to see Hela numerous times throughout the centuries, and he knows, even now, he would be welcome there. He and his daughter have had their differences, to be sure, but nothing so extreme as to cause resentment or rejection. He thinks, even, he should like to visit her soon, if ever he finds the chance.

The mortal, he cannot quite say the same for.

"What, by Odin's beard, are you…" he begins to ask.

"I've g-got the whole place rigged, you _fuck_!" The man cuts him off. "I press this button, and the whole place blows! So you better back the _fuck_ up!"

Loki's eyes narrow further, realizing suddenly the man's meaning.

Explosives, then.

He isn't bluffing. If he presses that button, then all of these ridiculous human's running about will likely be destroyed.

And Loki will have failed.

And that, Loki determines, is simply unacceptable.

So he reaches out with his magic, feeling for the specific current.

And he finds it, some sort of electrical energy, waiting to be triggered by another wave of the same kind.

Simple enough to defuse.

And so Loki does, countering it by releasing a pulse of his own energy, infused with opposing properties, and the current is quashed.

The god then taunts the man into pressing the button, desiring only to see the expression across his face when he realizes his last defense has been breached.

Silly mortals, so _dead_ to seidr.

There is a look of confusion, and then dawning terror as the man takes the bait, pressing his little button to no affect.

He has only moments to contemplate his mistake before Loki is upon him.

And the man meets his end the same as all the others, insides turned to liquid uselessness, body dying with it.

/

Thor is the first of the others to arrive, but by then, its well over.

Loki hears his brother land behind him, heard the hum of Mjolnir in the air long before that, and then the thunder god's heavy hand upon his shoulder.

He turns to greet him, smiling wide and proud.

He isn't expecting the look of concern across Thor's face as the larger god stares back.

And then come the others, the Man of Iron carrying the Captain and Banner, lowering to the ground, their faces pulled in something that looks like shock.

"Hooolllllllly shit…" Starks voice comes through his mask, metallic and detached sounding as his head pivots about, taking in the destruction around them.

Loki begins to explain excitedly to them of his conquest, certain of their approval.

"Brother…" Thor says, pulling Loki's eyes back to him.

That expression of concern across his face has etched deeper, and Loki for a moment doesn't understand.

And then the others explode in a chorus of cries and angry protests and _disappointment_.

And the world for Loki narrows to cold, hard memory, and emptiness inside.

_He is only just eight hundred years old, and he is on his knees, and he dares not to look up from where his gaze is fixed on the floor. Dares not to look up at the god… At his father… At Odin as he paces furiously back and forth in front of him, voice raised._

_And Loki feels like a child…_

Is _a child, before this ancient and wise man._

_And he wishes suddenly he could just disappear, could become invisible and as nothing._

_Shame burns his cheeks, and he holds himself so rigid it feels as though his very bones may break, hands curling to fists, pressed against the tops of his thighs so his arms won't shake._

_But they shake anyway, because he fails at everything, and he can't look at Odin, because his father is _ashamed _of him, and he hates himself. He hates himself so much, and he just wants to not exist anymore._

"_Loki," The All-Father is saying. "look at me boy."_

_But Loki cannot, and he sets his jaw, his throat constricting dangerously as he feels the sting in his eyes, and he fights so hard to keep it down, the pitiful whine he can feel working up his insides, and he cannot look at his father because he knows if he does, he'll fail at it too._

"_Loki," Odin repeats, and the godling's hands grip tighter, nails biting into flesh, and he's shaking, and he can't stop it, and…_

"_By Yggdrasil's roots, what were you _thinking_?" Odin pushes, voice edged in wariness, still powerful and booming._

_Loki flinches, he can't help it, his head bowing lower._

_For a long moment, he is too afraid to answer, but when Odin again repeats him name, he knows he must, and his voice comes out a barely heard whisper, trembling viciously…_

"… _I only wished to make you proud father."_

_And he hates how small and pathetic he sounds…_

_How _weak_._

"_By nearly getting yourself _killed_?" Odin shoots, voice disbelieving. "Loki, what would possess you into thinking such a thing would win my _pride_?"_

_And he can't stop it any longer, his face turning away, single tears slipping past his eyes, down his cheeks._

"… _I only thought…" he starts, voice cracking before fading to nothing, and he swallows painfully, biting down hard on his lip to keep from sobbing, unable to cease it completely as a strained keen slips past._

_He is in pain, but he barely notices. _

_He wears his right arm in a sling, broken, several of his ribs the same. _

_His face is mottled by cuts and bruises, as is the rest of him underneath the thin tunic and trousers he wears._

_He remembers nothing of the last three days._

_He's told he was in a coma all that time, and that's why._

_He hadn't been able to recall for several hours after waking what had happened._

_But then it had come back to him, as he lay in the healing chambers, being tended to and fussed over, and he had curled on his side and pressed his face to the pillow, hiding away._

_Trying to hide…_

_Raja, a renowned warrior of Vaniheim, had come to Asgard, seeking to prove himself in staged combat against those of the Aesir._

_He had defeated a great number of them in the training rings over the course of two days, and Loki had heard about it from Thor, when his brother had come into his chambers, proclaiming loudly and excitedly about the Vanir's great skill, and how greatly he admired him for it._

_Thor had gone on about how he planned to challenge this Raja himself, how he would be the one to finally hand him a loss, and in Loki's mind, a thought had hatched._

_Such a foolish thought._

_Before Thor was able to announce his challenge, Loki had made his way to the ring himself, finding Raja there, having just felled another of their warriors._

_Loki had stood in the gathered crowd a while, watching the Vanir. He was massive. A good foot taller than Loki himself, and thrice as thick. Yet he moved with deceptive speed and agility, and for a moment, Loki had been given pause._

_He had hesitated, doubting his ability to challenge the warrior himself._

_He could use his magic, he knew, and likely defeat him easily thus._

_But no… that would defeat the purpose of this entirely. _

_If he wanted for Odin to notice… if he wanted for Odin to be proud, he'd reasoned, he knew he would have to face the Vanir with only his physical skills. Only the abilities he had trained so hard to acquire. Which lately he had worked with ten times the effort to hone, determined as he was to prove himself a worthy son._

_He _would _prove himself worthy, _deserving _of the name Odinson. In that, he had concluded without exception to succeed. And if this was the only way, he'd thought then, if this was what must be done, he would do it, and he swore to himself in that moment he would _not_ fail._

_He had stepped forward then, as Raja had turned with his arms open wide, smiling and calling out to the crowd, asking who would be next._

_And Loki had called back in return, announcing himself._

_There had been an audible gasp from the gathered crowd at his challenge, he recalls. An almost shocked disbelief that he, Loki the trickster, would willingly place himself into harms way. And he remembers too the bustling of their hushed whispers then, their sureness that he must have some foul play up his sleeve, that surely he was planning on using his magic._

_Raja had glared at him, before a smirk had worked up along the side of his mouth, and he'd said…_

"_Odinson, you would face me?"_

_Loki had simply nodded._

_And Raja had stepped forward, towards him, and Loki remembers how it had taken a great amount of will not to step back. The closer he came, the more beast like the Vanir had seemed. But the young Prince knew also that, lest he shame his father's name completely, he could not back away from his challenge now._

"_You seek to use your magic?" Raja had accused. "I will not face you if you choose to cheat."_

_And Loki had shaken his head._

"_I will face you on even terms, Vanir." He had said, boldly, voice strong and unwavering and betraying none of his unease._

"_You give me your word?" Raja had pressed, not believing him. "Your solumn oath?"_

_And Loki had nodded._

"_You have my word." He'd replied, still even. "I swear to face you on the merits of my warrior's skill alone."_

_And he had._

_And he had lost._

_He had lost badly._

_Woeful understatement that was._

_It was not an exaggeration of the All-Father's to say he had nearly been killed._

_He had, his stubbornness the cause of it._

_Raja had countered all of his attacks with embarrassing ease, before the first time throwing him to the ground and holding his sword to his throat, demanding him to yield._

_But Loki had refused it, smacking the blade aside and rolling back to his feet, attacking again. And again, he'd been easily countered and thrown._

_Over and over, it had repeated, until Loki had been badly battered and bruised, utterly exhausted, and Raja had grown wary of, what to him, had been nothing but a game._

_The Vanir had eventually begun to walk away, telling the young Prince that while valiant, he had chosen a fight he could not win. He had started to refuse any further challenge, and Loki, in his blinding rage and humiliation, had once more forced himself back to his feet, crying out that they were not through, demanding Raja to come back and face him._

_And when the warrior had ignored his cries, in his desperation, Loki had resorted to inciting him to it. He had spat out the harshest of insults he could conjure, wicked and cruel on his too quick tongue. And he'd known it would work, because no one could induce rage so well as Loki Silvertongue. No one could cut with words as he did._

_It had been a mistake._

_Raja had not been one to take insult lightly. Had taken it utterly to heart, and so had been thrown into a murderous fury._

_Loki scarcely remembers the first blow, or what had happened after that. He knows only that he had realized belatedly the Vanir was only playing before, and that with his words, he had persuaded him into serious combat._

_And he remembers being scared._

_He had been absolutely _terrified_. _

_Raja had attacked him so quickly then, so viciously, he'd had no time to even react, to raise up his magic in defense. And Raja had beaten him viciously and repeatedly, and the pain had been immense._

_Loki can vaguely recall blood pouring into his eyes, blinding him, and filling his mouth, retching it onto the dust ridden ground as he'd been kicked hard in the stomach._

_Can remember hearing the gasps of horror and shock from the crowd, though his head had spun so fast and the assault so unrelenting, he hadn't seen any of them. And none of them… none of them had moved to stop the attack. None had come to his aide._

_And when he had finally begun to black out, when his body was naught but a broken and useless wreck on the ground, completely helpless… he remembers crying for Thor._

_And Thor had come, though Loki does not remember that._

_He had already lost consciousness by then, and from what he's been told, it had been someone in the crowd who had gone to fetch his brother, running to find him and telling him what was happening in the training ring._

_Thor had come immediately, and from everything else Loki has overheard, he had left Raja in a worse off state than his own before then taking him up and bringing him back to the palace, straight to the healers himself._

_The humiliation is practically unbearable, and made only worse now, with his father pacing before him, chastising him for his stupidity and recklessness, and Loki has nary an argument against it. _

_He would not voice it even if he did._

_He had meant to make Odin _proud_, and instead… instead… Oh gods, he had made him _ashamed _and… and…_

_He is snapped suddenly from his thoughts, surprised stiff as the All-Father is at once upon him, kneeling in front of him and holding his face in his hands._

"_My son, look at me…" he says, his voice softer than it had been._

_But Loki cannot. He keeps his gaze averted, cursing himself for the tears he's unable to stop._

_Oh, what his father must think of him… how much he must despise him…_

"_My boy…" Odin near whispers now, and Loki can feel his large and calloused hand along his cheek, gently turning his face forward._

_Still, Loki keeps his eyes away._

_He is shaking._

_Odin's brow furrows deep, mouth pulling into a frown._

"_You must promise me you will never do anything so foolish again Loki." He says softly. "You must _promise _me."_

_And Loki swallows, fresh tears forming thick in his eyes, falling, his face burning red._

"… _I am sorry." He cries, and he doesn't even attempt to stop his voice from wavering. "I am sorry Father, I only… I only wished to make you proud. I only wished…"_

_Odin hushes him, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from Loki's face before he drags a thumb across his cheek, wiping the tears clean._

"_Loki, you cause only my grief through concern when you place yourself in harms way as you did." He says. "You cannot think such actions will win my pride. To see you hurt hurts me. Do you understand? What good is pride if my youngest is lost to me?"_

_Loki's brow furrows, and he frowns._

"_I… I thought only to prove myself a warrior Father." He says. "I thought to show you I can… I can fight well without… without the aide of…"_

"_Loki, it is not important." Odin cuts him short. "I care only for your well being. You must understand and accept your limitations. I have told you this before."_

_At last, Loki's eyes lift to him, confusion heavy in his gaze._

_He does not understand._

"… _But Father, I had thought…" he starts, and again, Odin interrupts. _

"_You are not as your brother Loki." He says. "You cannot do as he does. You endanger only yourself when you attempt such. And in turn, you may endanger others the same."_

_And Loki feels his voice catch in his throat, for the first time in a long time, unknowing what to say._

_Odin sighs, again running his hand through his sons hair, trying to sooth._

_And unexpectedly, Loki feels a shot of anger burst through his insides. He stiffens. If Odin notices, he gives no indication. _

"_My son, do not take it as insult. You are talented in many ways Thor is not."_

_Yes, of treacherous falsity and cowardice magic, Loki thinks. Of what talents he has, Odin has never shown approval or admiration._

_None of them have._

"_I only am concerned for you Loki." Odin says. "I worry for you boy. You are of rebellious heart and mind, and push yourself often beyond what you should. I wish only to see you well and safe. You must understand."_

_And Loki feels his anger dissipate, gone as quickly as it came._

_He slumps, gaze casting down once more, and he nods._

"_You must promise me never to act so carelessly again though." Odin pushes._

_And again, Loki nods._

_A long moment passes, silent._

_And then Loki's lips part, and he breaths out in barely a whisper…_

"… _I love you Father."_

_Odin smiles._

_He smiles, and then he is taking Loki underneath his arms and helping to lift him to his feet, placing his hands on his shoulders._

_Loki still isn't looking at him._

"_I expect you to stay confined to the palace for at least a week Loki." The All-Father says, voice stern but not unkind. "At least until you are fully healed and well."_

_Loki nods, eyes still away._

"_Good." Odin says. "Now, return to your chambers and rest my son. You have been through enough for one day."_

_Loki says nothing more, simply obeying, doing as he's told, making his way out of the thrown room._

_It is only when the doors close behind him, and Loki has made it halfway down the hallway, does he let it go._

_His hand barely reaches in time to clamp over his mouth, the sob half stifled._

_He stumbles, stepping forward, before darting near panicked into the shadows between the pillars. _

_And there he presses his back to one, sliding down slowly, where no one can see, folding in on himself and keeping his face pressed to his knees, his hands still rigid over his lips, crushing down the whines._

_He weeps silently._

_And no one ever sees._

_And he feels so cold. Despite the warmth in the air. The warmth of Asgard. He feels so cold._

"I love you Father_…"_

_And he hears, over and over, the sound of nothing in return…_

"Loki…"

…

"Loki…"

His eyes snap up, focusing, and he sees Thor standing there, looking down at him, features lined in worry.

It takes him a moment. He blinks. And continues staring, as though expecting his brother to say something.

Thor frowns.

"He is here Loki." He finally speaks again. "Awaiting our arrival in their conference room."

Loki only nods, before standing abruptly and moving past him.

Thor watches him a moment, himself still, and his frown deepens.

Loki hadn't heard him come into the room. At least, he had given no indication of such. Nor of being aware of Thor's presence at all until he had begun calling his name with some volume in front of him. Almost as though he had been in some form of trance.

Thor cannot recall when last it was he had caught his brother unaware. He does not like it. It leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He supposes everything this day has resulted in much the same.

By the time he and the others had arrived at Central Park, it was already over.

They'd found Loki, standing in the middle of what could only be described as a blood bath. And if people had been panicking before his brother's arrival, Thor is sure it was nothing as compared to what their reactions had been after.

They had been running, screaming and crying and tripping over themselves in absolute horror at what had transpired, with an uncontrolled urgency to get _away_.

Six men had lain strewn about Loki's still form, all of them dead. Loki himself had been covered in blood.

Thor had only to take one glance at them to know _how_ they had died, at the thick pools of blood which seeped from every crevice of their bodies. The others on the team hadn't known at all, but their shocked and terrified expressions had told him immediately that the method wasn't one they would approve.

Loki had caused their internal organs to rupture. It was a spell he had known for many, many centuries. One which took nearly unfathomable mastery and control over magic, and which had made Loki almost unanimously feared among their enemies, wherever they had done battle in the countless years since. It worked not on Aesir, since Aesir had no organs themselves. Nor did the Jotunar. But plenty within the Nine did, and so it was for many a despairing sight, to see the horned helm of Loki Odinson cresting over the horizon on any field of war. For that, and for many reasons other.

By Loki's one thousandth name day, he had grown brutally efficient and, in the eyes of many, merciless on the fields of battle. His magic had grown astoundingly powerful, and he could wield it in ways never before seen or thought possible.

And he had grown _violent_. Though only ever after every other path had been tried and exercised. Loki had always sought diplomacy first, over war. It was a thing about him which Thor had always secretly admired, though he would tease his brother often about always trying to talk his way out of a fight. He had ever known that not to be true. Known instead Loki possessed a logic and patience he had never had.

And he had never thought anything of Loki's viciousness once battle became the only option, as his own was easily of match. It was the way of the Aesir. Nothing more.

His human companions did not understand that though, and when they'd come upon the devastation of their enemies at Loki's hands, they had been disgusted, and Loki had been unable to grasp why.

He had been certain they would be proud, as he'd turned to meet them, smiling broadly, proclaiming the threat resolved, explaining to them how he had caused their weapons to short circuit, running a surge of energy through them, bombs included, before disposing of the men themselves.

"_I know not why your civilians continue to run in such panic though_." He had mused, brow furrowed quizzically. "_Do they not see I have removed the threat to their safety_?"

And then everyone had begun to yell at him, and Loki had grown very quiet.

And it had frightened Thor beyond all ease.

For Loki often withdrew and grew eerily silent when angered severely, and Thor had been ill with the worry he would lose control and attack his friends. Knowing if that happened, the only one of them capable of stopping Loki from killing them was him. And he relished not the thought of ever having to raise arms against his brother again.

But Loki had remained as he was, saying not a word, until Thor had stepped in and raised his voice above all the rest of theirs, telling them to stop, to leave Loki alone.

They had begun to argue with him, and Thor had simply turned from them, taking Loki by the arm and pulling him away, back towards the tower.

Loki hadn't said a word to him on the way back. They had walked the entire distance, and upon reaching the tower, Loki had at last spoken, requesting softly to go back to his room.

Thor had offered to go with him, but Loki had shaken his head and told him he wished to be alone.

And Thor had respected that wish.

Within minutes of the others arriving, that was when Fury had called.

To say he had been enraged… to say he had been horrified and in a state of panic, as much of a state of panic as Agents of SHIELD seemed capable of, would, they all had thought, be the grossest of understatements.

He had bombarded them with questions and accusations and threats of the most serious kind, while all the rest of them had stumbled and tripped over their words, trying desperately and unsuccessfully to explain what was going on.

And eventually, to everyone's shock… Thor's seemingly most of all, it had been Loki who had emerged, somehow having known what was going on in the conference room, and it had been Loki who had addressed the director with frightening calm in his voice, explaining in a tone purely matter of fact that the Avengers had offered him refuge, in exchange for his services to the team and whatever battles they found themselves encountering.

"_I will not cower, nor evade confrontation with you, Director Fury_." He had said, smooth as ice. "_I am here, and here I will remain. If you wish to make known your displeasure, you may do so directly to my person_."

And then Fury had said he would be there in forty five minutes, and Loki had nodded before retreating back to his room, saying not another word to anyone, leaving them all in a state of both confusion and deep concern.

Thor trails behind Loki now as they make their way down the corridor, to where everyone else is already waiting.

Thor has to quicken his pace to catch up, finally reaching the younger gods side, staring down at him, his mouth tugged into a frown.

Long moments pass in silence, before the thunderer glances away.

"… I will not let them harm you Loki." He says softly.

Loki's expression doesn't shift from its stoic mask. But when he speaks in return, Thor can easily hear the agitation in his voice.

"I do not require your protection Thor." He says, continuing to walk unhindered. "I am more than capable of handling myself."

Thor feels an uncomfortable tension rise up through him at his brother's tone, and he swallows thickly.

"I do not intend insult Loki." He replies. "Nor was it my intent to call into question your competence. It is only that when last I left you, you were…"

And at this, Loki stops, abruptly, turning to face the elder Prince, face suddenly twisted in unhidden rage.

"I was _what _Thor?" He asks venomously.

Thor is unable to help his startled expression at Loki's sudden outburst. For a moment, he says nothing, and Loki steps closer, cutting the distance between them to nothing, nearly pressed up against the larger god now.

"Answer me Thor." He hisses, voices dropping low. "I. was. _what_?"

Thor stammers, resisting the urge to step back.

"… You… you were captured and… and tortured and…"

Loki's eyes are staring with a cold, unflinching gaze back into his, filled with fury.

"_And_…?" He presses.

"And… and it was my fault, Loki." Thor says, uncertain. "If I had been there, if…"

And a suddenly sly smile pulls Loki's lips up, and he looks mean, glaring back before, at once, he steps away, smile turning to a grin which makes Thor's stomach clench in dread. The same sort of grin he saw on Loki's face that day… that last day, on the Bifrost, when…

"If you had been there," he says, voice dangerously smooth. "you would not have been captured as I was. No, not you. Not the mighty _Thor_. You would have smote them all with practiced ease and saved your useless, helpless brother from the humiliation of his own failure. Oh yes, of this, I have no doubt. You are the hero Thor. You are beyond folly or _weakness_." He laughs, but there is nothing mirthful about it. "Though surely you would not have been, let us fathom a moment the impossibility they might have caught you unawares as they did me, their little device would with certainty have had _no _affect on you. Not as it did me. Me. _Loki_. Your pitiable, frail, worthless _Jotun scum _would be brother! It would not have worked on you Thor! Only me!"

Suddenly he reaches out, presses his palms flat against Thor's chest and shoves him back against the wall, hard, causing the drywall to cave in slightly.

"Loki, stop!" Thor cries, alarmed.

But Loki doesn't listen, only continuing to bury his fingers in the material of Thor's tunic, pressing him harder.

"Do you not see the utter inutility of this all?" He nearly yells, his voice losing its calm, wavering slightly. "Do you not see the way they regard me? The way they look at me? They see what I _am _Thor. It was a fool's errand, this entire thing. To think I could ever be a part of this. A part of what _you_ are. They will never accept me. No one will. That is as it is. That is as it _should _be. Even Banner… even… even the monstrosity in him is stricken by me and my ways. They will tell me to leave Thor. And I shall. And you… I… I wish for you to remain behind. To… to forget me…"

"Loki, no…" Thor reaches up, gripping Loki's wrists. But the younger god keeps pressing.

"You will eventually return to Asgard, when they have rebuilt the Bifrost, and Odin will… he will forgive you in aiding my escape Thor. He will forgive you, because you are his _only_ son. You are his heir and he… he loves you. He loves you _deeply_. All will be well for you Thor. As it should be. All will be well. But you must cast me from your thoughts after this day. I am unwanted, and that is the truth of it. I am too much a vile thing, too wretched. The only place for me is away from all else. From you, and Asgard and your mortals. They have no use of me, and I none of them…"

"Loki, stop." Thor demands, gripping him harder.

"I have no home of which I belong…"

"_Loki_!" Thor snaps.

And finally, the trickster stops, staring back at Thor, his expression having crumpled, no longer full of rage and viciousness. Now only heavy with suffering.

"Loki," Thor begins again, more gentle. "_I _have use of you. I have _need _of you. It does not matter to me what regard anyone else holds for you, what their thoughts are on you. It does not matter. I _love _you Loki, and I shall never leave you. Do you understand me? If you were to travel to Hel itself, I would follow you there. To Niflheim and back if that is what was required of me to stay by your side. I will _never _abandon you."

Without another word then, Thor lets go of Loki's wrists and puts his great arms around him, pulling him tight to his chest, hand cupping along the back of his brother's head.

Loki stands rigid, unmoving, even as Thor buries his face to his shoulder.

"Do you understand Loki?" He asks, voice muffled. "Do you understand, I will never leave your side?"

Seconds pass, stretching well into minutes, Loki still stiff in his arms.

But Thor doesn't let go. He doesn't let go. And gradually, slowly, Loki's frame begins to slacken, and there is such a rush of relief through Thor as he feels his little brother's arms reach up and around him. Feels him press his face to his own shoulder.

Feels him nod…

And for a long while they stand like that.

No one comes to fetch them. No one interrupts or forces.

No one dares…

Until at last, Thor mutters that they should go, and once more, Loki nods, and the elder god hears him whisper, nearly soundless against him…

"I can still handle myself."

And Thor only smiles, nodding back.

"I know you can brother." He says softly. "I know you can."

/

AN: Just to add, I read a comic with Loki once where he's talking to this girl, and he mentions in passing that he's happy he doesn't have internal organs, this man being on the floor dying because something in him ruptured. So that's where I got that from folks. Actually in the comics.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27:**

Tony finds him in the kitchen at three in the morning, sitting along one of the bar stools at the island, back to him and posture straight.

The lights in the place are dimmed low, and everything seems unnaturally still and quiet.

Tony watches from the doorway, leaned against the frame. He can see Loki moving, lifting something to his lips, it seems like. But he makes no sound Tony can hear.

And the billionaire nearly jumps out of his skin when suddenly he speaks.

"Good morrow, Anthony Stark." The gods voice soft but jarringly clear in the quiet of the room.

Tony swallows thickly, straightening.

For a moment, he hesitates to move, wondering to himself if it's a good idea to be anywhere _alone_ with Loki before he shrugs the apprehension off and moves forward. He hasn't lived his life worrying about what if's before, and he sure as hell isn't about to start now.

It's been three days since the "incident", as Steve keeps referring to it as. Since Clint and Natasha had disappeared, she sent out into the field, Clint given leave, to let his hand heal, apparently. Since Fury had come and screamed his head off at all of them, demanding answers and threatening accountability. Thor had continually kept pushing Loki behind him like he needed protection and holding that hammer of his like he meant to use it, telling Fury repeatedly that he needed to watch the way he was talking to his brother, that he was addressing a son of Odin, and Loki had kept pushing him out of the way, rolling his eyes in exasperation and trying to address Fury himself.

Fury's bearing was enough to make almost anyone revert back into a three year old child, but Loki had seemed wholly unaffected, which Tony thought was weird, considering what Fury had _done _to him.

Tony himself wasn't exactly comfortable with what he'd heard.

Well, that was an understatement.

He was absolutely disgusted, and furious. But he hadn't expressed as such to anyone. Loki wasn't what anyone would call popular around the place, and Tony didn't want to seem like he was sympathizing with the enemy.

Still, the fact it had been a device _he'd _created which had led to Loki's capture and subsequent torture…

Not many things led to Tony's feeling guilt, but that…

Thor had just been pissed, and for a while, it had seemed like nothing was going anywhere. But after hours of back and forth fighting and shouting and pointing of fingers, the Director had given in, saying he would allow Loki as part of the team, but warning that if he pulled any "shit" like he had earlier that day, he was going to be sorry. Loki had just smirked and given his word that he wouldn't.

Tony knew Fury was thinking the same thing the rest of them were. That it was easier to have Loki close by and in their sights, safer, than having him running around out there as an unknown quantity. However tentative the relationship might be, it was better to have a freakishly powerful set of gods on your side than not. Thor had made it clear that where Loki went, he went, and _nobody _wanted Thor against them.

Meanwhile, Fury had been left to deal with the fallout, handling of the media and general ensuing panic from the reappearance of Loki killing a bunch of guys in a _very_ public environment.

That was a job the billionaire certainly didn't envy.

Coming around the counter, eyes locked on the trickster, Tony drags his fingers along the granite top, thrumming them casually, doing his best not to appear nervous.

"How'd you know I was there?" He asks, tone flippant as he takes one of the stools along the opposite side. Loki, he sees, is drinking a cup of tea, his attention seemingly focused on the task, eyes fixed down. "I didn't think I made any noise."

"You made enough." Loki answers quietly, not bothering to look up.

He lifts the cup to his lips again, drinking delicately.

Tony stares at him, and tries not to think about how uncomfortable the fact the god heard him when he hadn't even heard _himself_ makes him.

…

Loki is beautiful.

He's noticed it before, of course. But it's always been a bit difficult focusing on it when he's thought near every time he's encountered the god that he was going to die at his hands.

But Loki _is_ beautiful. There is _perfection_ in his face. Tony supposes the same way that there is in Thor's. But Loki's looks are wholly opposite his brother's. His features are almost painfully delicate, like the slightest touch might break them apart.

And there is something preternaturally genteel about him. It's in the way he moves, Tony thinks… the way he holds himself…

He's ridiculously refined.

You would be certain in watching him he was the kindest of men. That he had no violence within him.

Tony finds he has a hard time reconciling the manner of the god with what he saw happen in Central Park just three days ago. Those six men, splayed out dead on the ground, flecks of their blood covering Loki's face and hands and armor.

He wonders if it's all some sort of illusion then, that gentility. Another of Loki's great lies…

"I see you found the tea." He starts again when the trickster says nothing else.

Loki gives a single nod, taking another sip.

Tony frowns slightly, watching another long moment before leaning forward, resting his elbows along the countertop.

"You hungry?" He asks, not really sure why. Trying to relieve the tension he feels, he guesses. Though if Loki feels any, he isn't showing even the slightest.

The god takes another sip of his tea before placing the cup down soundlessly in its saucer, and finally he looks up at Tony.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, watching the billionaire a long moment, and Tony feels distinctly like what he thinks a dissected lab rat must feel like.

He maintains eye contact.

It isn't easy.

And finally Loki again speaks.

"No." He says simply.

He keeps looking at Tony, and Tony feels himself fidget, hands folding and unfolding.

His eyes leave Loki's face, traveling over the rest of him. The god is wearing just a simple tunic now, the sleeves coming only halfway down his arms, and a pair of loose-fitting breeches, nothing on his feet.

He's rail-thin, Tony realizes, and he still can't get used to seeing Loki in anything other than his full Asgardian garb, armor plates, helmet and all.

He looks so much smaller now, though his height is still imposing.

And Tony would never be fool enough to make the mistake of thinking Loki _weak_. He may not be built like a shit brick house like his big bro, but the billionaire knows from _experience_ just how strong the smaller god is.

His eyes move back to his face.

"When's the last time you ate?" He asks, suddenly really curious.

Loki blinks, seeming to consider the question a moment before answering.

"Four of your Midgardian days and two weeks." He says.

Tony's eyes grow large.

"What?" He asks, incredulous. "You haven't eaten _anything_ for eighteen days?"

Loki's expression finally shifts, a sly smirk moving up along his lips.

"Sharp mind _indeed_ Stark." He says. "How _quickly_ you make the calculation, though simple it may be. I _almost_ am impressed."

His voice is full of mocking, not even trying for subtlety.

Tony just flashes him a grin, shrugging and playing along.

"Well, I _am_ a genius, if you remember." He replies smugly.

And Loki laughs, soft and light, and Tony feels a weird tingle through his stomach at the sound.

He doesn't think he's ever heard Loki laugh like that before. With genuine amusement.

It's actually pleasant to the ear.

Tony isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.

The room falls into silence again, Loki still looking back to him, taking up his cup and drinking from it once more, never breaking eye contact.

Tony stares back, thinking.

"How can you not be hungry if you haven't eaten in almost three weeks?" He eventually asks. "I mean… do you guys even _need _to eat?"

At last, Loki looks away, placing the cup down once more as his gaze averts, scanning over the kitchen.

"No." He replies softly. "We do not require sustenance as you define it. Though should we remain without it for long enough, we would begin to feel pangs similar to what you mortals experience, from what I have read." He looks back to the billionaire. "Though probably not quite so painful." He smiles. "Food is not necessary to maintain our energy as it is with your kind, though, perhaps, other things."

Tony looks fascinated, leaning forward more.

"So you guys still _eat _though, right?" He presses.

Loki laughs, again, that genuine amusement.

"Indeed, the Aesir partake in grand feasts near every night. It is considered customary, and time well spent enjoying a good meal. Idunn's golden apples are perhaps the most coveted of delicacies. But on Asgard, all manner of victuals are indulged in."

Tony leans his chin against his palm, fascination growing.

"How long can you go without eating before it starts to hurt?" He asks.

"Perhaps two months." Loki replies. "Though I have gone far longer than that without. I do not enjoy food so much, I suppose, as does Thor or the others."

Loki's voice drops lower with the last of it, and Tony thinks he hears a kind of… he isn't sure… almost _resignation _there.

"I would rather my time be spent learning than eating." Loki supplies without questioning. "I am on Asgard thought odd for it, for that among many reasons other."

He smiles, but it comes not even close to reaching his eyes.

Tony's brow furrows.

He remembers hearing Thor explain something about Loki not really… _fitting in_ where they came from. He'd been slightly drunk at the time and not exactly paying attention. But he remembers it nonetheless, and thinking about it, looking at and talking to Loki now, it seems to make sense.

He's so _not_ like Thor, it's bizarre.

Where the thunder god is loud and jovial and outgoing, always smiling and seemingly happy, Loki is reserved and withdrawn and almost sullen. And, Tony's sure, the quietist person he's ever seen. He doesn't make any _noise_. And when he talks, he's so soft spoken, it's almost difficult to hear him.

Adopted indeed. But if they were raised the same… by the same parents…

If Tony didn't already know, he would never have guessed they were related in any way.

Suddenly, Loki's brow furrows, and he's staring at Tony with plain curiosity.

"You are a creature of curious nature, Anthony Stark." He begins. "You seek for knowledge much in the same way I do."

Tony shrugs, again grinning.

"Well, I don't know about th…"

"Would you permit me to ask a question of you then?" Loki cuts him off, looking back at him intently.

Tony shifts uncomfortably. Loki's eyes are _strange_, he abruptly realizes. They aren't _normal_. They're unusually clear and bright. The color so vibrant, the billionaire would almost swear they were _glowing_.

"Uh, sure," he says, shrugging again. "go ahead and shoot cowboy."

Loki frowns slightly.

"What?" He asks.

Tony waves a dismissive hand.

"Never mind. Ask away." He says.

Loki blinks, staring back in silence a moment, and Tony can't help but feel a small bit of satisfaction that he's apparently _confused_ the god.

But the puzzlement lasts only a moment, and Loki is taking his cup of tea up again, taking a sip before he starts speaking.

"Of what age are you, Man of Iron?"

The question throws Tony an instant. He isn't expecting it, and it takes him some seconds of staring before it seems to register.

"Um, you mean, how _old _am I?"

Loki nods.

Tony wants to ask why the heck Loki even wants to _know_, but something tells him he might start pissing the dude off if he doesn't just say. And that's something Tony _definitely _doesn't want to do, lest he end up out another window.

He licks his lips and answers.

"Forty four." He says, simply.

Loki's forehead seems to crease in puzzlement.

"Forty four?" He asks. "Forty four _Midgardian_ years?"

Tony blinks back.

"Yeah, I don't know what _Midgardian_ means, but yeah, forty four as in, three hundred and sixty five days a year. So that's, what, sixteen thousand and sixty days? Add a hundred and twelve days to that for the last four some months I've been forty four, give or take."

The expression of puzzlement doesn't leave Loki's face.

"You appear much older than this, Anthony." He says finally.

"Uh… thanks." Tony replies, sarcastically. "Usually people tell me I look _good_ for my age."

"You would still be a toddler were you born of Asgard." Loki replies.

And at this, Tony's eyes widen.

"Really?" He asks, sounding disbelieving.

Loki nods.

"You mortal's lives are so fleeting." He goes on, sounding almost regretful. "I know not how you manage the accomplishments you do in so short a time."

"Well, we do our best." Tony smiles. "Though you're looking at the rare exception, I'm afraid Lokes. Most people don't accomplish half of what I do in twice the time."

Loki stares back, quiet.

Tony's smile turns to a grin.

Moments pass without further words, until Tony gets antsy again and sits back, folding his arms across his chest.

"So, wait a second, if I would still be a baby on Asgard, how old's that make _you_?" He asks.

And now it is Loki's turn to smile.

"How old do you think I am, Anthony Stark?" He asks in return.

"Well you _look_ about twenty, twinkle toes. But I'm guessing you're a bit older than that."

Loki simply nods, waiting, apparently, for him to guess.

"Five hundred?" Tony throws a figure out, not really trying.

And Loki laughs.

"I recall my five hundredth name day with great clarity." He says. "Though it was long ago now. I fear my recollection comes from the unpleasantness of the occasion."

His eyes seem for a moment to grow distant, a vague frown playing about his lips as he falls silent.

Tony looks back, watching him.

"… Okay, so you're older than five hundred." He says, trying to sound casual about it, even though he's finding he's having an impossible time actually wrapping his _mind_ around that. "So how old are you?"

Loki blinks, appearing to come out of whatever daze had just taken him, his eyes focusing back on the billionaire. He's quiet a few, long seconds.

"I am five thousand nine hundred and fifty two of your Midgardian years." He says, completely casually.

Tony's eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"_What_?" He spits. "You're… wait a second, you're telling me that you…" he points at Loki.

Loki stares back in mild confusion at the seemingly startled reaction.

"You're almost six _thousand_ years old?" Tony finally sputters out, voice rising with astonishment.

Loki nods.

"Yes." He says. "I am a very young god yet. Barely considered of age."

"You're shitting me." Tony says.

"What?" Loki replies.

Tony shakes his head.

"Never mind. Just…" he holds up his hands. "wait a second. Barely of _age_? What does _that_ mean?"

"It means I have only for perhaps two dozen centuries been thought a true warrior of Asgard. Though some may argue that point still." He adds, not bothering to cover the bitterness in his voice.

"This is insane." Tony mutters, shaking his head.

Loki looks back with the same questioning.

"Pardon?" He asks, not understanding.

"Just how long do you guys live _for_?" Tony ignores his question.

Loki tilts his head to the side, curious.

"We do not die." He says, as though that should have been obvious.

"You… _what_?" Tony gapes.

"… We are referred to as immortals." Loki replies easily. "Though we do grow older, I have yet to see any god die of decrepitude, nor have I ever read of such a thing occurring. We are not made of the same sort of flesh and blood and bone you humans are. Your bodies are held together by degenerating cellular structure. Ours by everlasting and ever regenerating cosmic energy. The energy of the World Tree."

"Wow, okay… This is insane." Tony again mutters. "You guys really _are_ gods."

"Well of course." Loki says plainly.

Tony isn't a religious man by any means, but he guesses if there had to be beings of worship, these guys would be it.

"So hold on," he starts again. "you're telling me you guys _can't _die?"

Loki smiles almost ruefully, shaking his head.

"Oh no. We can indeed die. There are many ways in which to kill a god."

"Like?" Tony pushes.

"I am certain you would wish to know." Loki says, smile turning to a grin.

Tony just stares.

"We are sturdily built, but we _can_ be killed." Loki goes on, smile vanishing from his face. "Any steel of Dwarvin or Elvin or Asgardian make would have no difficulty in running us through. I myself have been impaled on such weapons more times than I would like readily to recall."

"Seriously?" Tony asks.

Loki nods.

"I have my fair share of battle scars, much to the chagrin of my detractors, I am afraid." He smiles, again, the expression not reaching his eyes.

Tony feels mildly queasy.

It's hard enough to get his head around what Loki says about them being immortal. But thinking about someone who could potentially live forever being _killed _sits even less well with him, for some reason.

"… What else?" He breathes quietly.

Still, Loki smiles, and he nods once.

"Your little device might have brought an end to me, had Thor not come to my rescue."

"_What_?" Tony almost gasps, bewildered. "But, wait a second, I thought… I mean… I only designed it to… to weaken you by… I mean, to make sure you were more compliant by draining your magical voodoo or whatever you call it. I didn't design it to _kill_."

Loki nods.

"Aye. It is because you understand little of the energy of Yggdrasil you would not understand the affects of ripping ones magic from them."

Tony stares back, that queasiness growing worse as it seems Loki suddenly grows paler, his vivid, green eyes lowering, fixing on the cup of tea, held between his palms.

He is quiet a long while, and Tony doesn't dare to interrupt.

"My magic is sentient of nature." He finally starts again. "As is all magic. It is as conscious, as alive as the cells within your own body, and so as essential to me. To take it from me would be to the same affect as taking the cells from your body."

Tony blanches and Loki continues, smiling softly.

"Fear not, little mortal. Much also as your cells operate, magic will replenish and regenerate itself over time. Though as I said, unlike your cells, this process never will wear itself out. It is _why_ we are immortal. We are touched by the energy of the World Tree, all of us. Some more than others. But we all posses it, and it is enough to keep us eternal, even the smallest amount."

Tony can't help his wide-eyed expression, staring back at Loki with something like awe.

Loki must see it, because he laughs gently, gesturing toward the billionaire.

"Here, hold out your hand."

"Huh?" Tony asks, sounding almost dazed.

Loki nods towards him.

"Hold out your hand." He repeats.

Tony looks at him warily.

"Why? You aren't going to make my insides melt or anything, are you?"

Loki smirks.

"No, I wish only to demonstrate for you what I mean."

Tony doesn't exactly trust the guy. God of _lies _and all. But he figures if Loki really wanted him dead, he would have just done it already.

And that thought gives him pause suddenly, and he starts thinking about why it is Loki didn't just kill them all to begin with when he was trying to take over the planet, when it was pretty damn obvious now that he _could _have. And then Tony remembers the footage he'd been shown by Fury, of Loki's arrival at the compound, and he remembers how… _sick_ Loki had looked. Remembered him nearly losing his footing, nearly collapsing in seeming pain and exhaustion on his way out. And what Loki had said to them in that apartment in Paris, about how he hadn't been in his best state at the time, mentally or physically.

And Tony wonders, starts imagining what could make a _god_ so _ill_…

The billionaire pushes that thought aside for now, knowing how he tends to think himself into corners, and almost unconsciously, he holds his hand out to Loki, watching him carefully.

Loki is still smiling, and with a delicate wave of his fingers, he gestures towards him again.

There is a mild flash of light, and then Tony is blinking down at the sensation along his outreached fingers, staring in bewilderment a moment.

It's… there's…

He stares a moment longer, trying to make out if what he's seeing is real or if he's imagining it, before he glances up at Loki, who is looking back at him, smile now a satisfied grin.

Tony thinks he looks so young. Like some little kid.

"Is this real?" He asks blankly.

"You feel it there upon the pads of your fingers." Loki nods, motioning towards the green butterfly which sets alight between Tony's thumb and index finger. "The energy is real. I merely have bent it to a specific shape." He inclines his head. "Go then, pet its wings."

Tony blinks, looking back a long moment before his gaze slips again to the butterfly, and very carefully, he reaches up with his other hand, brushing his fingers as gently as he can over the insects wings. He feels his breath catch in his throat. He can feel the _dust_, the soft, petal like texture of them.

And he hears Loki hum.

"Mmm," he breaths quietly, watching. "the energy is my own." He goes on. "Whatever it touches, and whatever touches it, I can feel. I am aware of."

Tony looks back up at him.

"When you pet its wings gently as you do, it is a pleasant sensation. If you were to crush it in your palm, I would feel pain. The nature of the interaction dictates such. Magic is of a powerful sensitivity."

Tony swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

His eyes slip away again, staring at the conjuring, and absently, he lifts his hand again to stroke it.

Before he can though, it vanishes in a puff of smoke, and he looks back up.

Loki is smiling at him, broadly.

"I can take only so much." He says, almost teasingly, and Tony actually feels his cheeks blush with embarrassment.

How many times has _that_ happened in his life?

"I didn't mean…"

Loki simply waves him off, chuckling.

"It is well, Anthony. No cause for explanations."

Tony blinks, still a moment before he realizes he's still holding his hand out, and he curls his fingers back, drawing his hand to his lap and glancing away.

"That's… pretty amazing Reindeer Games." He says, trying to recover his composure. "I didn't think you made pretty things."

Loki laughs lightly, and it sounds like bells to Tony.

"Many pretty things." He says. "For a time, it was thought amongst the Aesir that pretty things were all I was good for. I would hold entertainment for the court, telling tales and giving them shape beyond only my words with such conjurings as the one you just held. It would bring delight and applause and laughter. But then later, derision, for what use is such magic as illusion? As was their thinking, in any event."

Tony frowns, glancing back at him.

"That seems… unfair." He says. "You could say the same thing about any kind of art."

Loki nods.

"Indeed. But there are many things unfair, Man of Iron. I would prove them faulty in their logic upon the fields of battle. My energy is not limited to _just_ pretty things." He smiles.

Unconsciously, Tony leans forward.

"What else can you do?" He asks. "Could you, like, read my mind or something?"

"I can influence your thoughts and inclinations."

"You can…?" The billionaire starts. He cuts abruptly short as he's suddenly taken by the urge to stand and fetch a cup of water from the sink. A moment later, he finds himself at the faucet, filling a glass, and he scarcely remembers moving when he comes back to himself, shaking his head and glancing around dazedly.

Loki snickers from his seat, and Tony's eyes shift to him, wide and taken aback

"What the hell!" He breaths, shocked. "You made me do that!"

Loki grins.

"I tend not to engage often in such practice, as I have found it can cause the sensation of madness in its recipients." The trickster goes on smoothly.

Tony swallows.

This is _too _weird.

The dude was literally _inside his head_.

"Alright," Tony almost squeaks. "You realize you could've taken over the planet a heck of a lot easier with that shit, don't you?"

Loki blinks, and suddenly the smirk vanishes from his face, and Tony mentally kicks himself for making the fucking _suggestion_.

"_Great, dumbass, so if the leader of the free world suddenly starts talking world domination, you'll know whose fault it is_."

And he kicks himself again, praying to whoever that Loki didn't _hear_ that.

Something in the god's expression looks very abruptly unhappy, and Tony watches him glance away, eyes drifting again over the kitchen.

Tony wonders if he can see better in the dark than a human.

Probably.

He seems like he can do everything else.

"Why didn't you?" He suddenly blurts, unable to help himself. "I mean, uh…"

Loki's gaze shifts back to him, sharp and cold.

"I mean," Tony stammers. "you could've taken over the planet pretty easy, from what I'm gathering here Lokes. But instead you failed spectacularly and kind of let us kick your ass. I'm just… I'm wondering why."

Tony wonders why he can't seem to stop the verbal diarrhea that's spewing from his lips as he sees the flash of displeasure cross the gods delicate features.

"Is it any true concern of yours?" He says, and his voice is at once very tight and clipped.

"Uh, kind of." Tony pushes, and why the _fuck_ can't he shut up! "I mean, it _is_ our planet, and we're sort of charged with protecting it. It's a little unnerving, knowing what you're _actually_ capable of."

Loki just looks at him, saying nothing.

And Tony's mind drifts back to that footage, to Loki looking sick and weak and… drained…

"Did something happen to you?" He asks suddenly. "When… I mean, when you fell off the broken end of your sparkly magic bridge in the sky? Thor told me all about that, by the way."

Loki's eyes narrow dangerously, but Tony's never been very good at self-preservation, and he lets his curiosity get the better of him now.

"I remember what you said in Paris, about you not being really healthy or whatever, way back when. And then there's that footage of you first arriving here, looking like you've taken one too many rides on the Titanic, and I'm just wondering, is all. If something happened. You said there's a lot of things which can kill a god. Did your fall through space drain your magic or…"

He trails off as he sees Loki's expression shift into something less angry, suddenly into something…

He feels his heart drop, his stomach churning nauseously.

It was there, for the briefest of instances. But he _swears _he saw it.

_Fear_.

Loki turns away, hands turning and turning the cup of tea round.

He says nothing for a long while. And then he speaks, in a voice almost too soft to hear.

"You overstep your bounds Stark." He says, in that calm way that's more unnerving than any kind of yelling could ever be. "You presume to know of things which you do not. And that is a dangerous fault."

Another, long moment of silence.

When Loki turns back to him suddenly, eyes seeming somehow brighter now, they really _are_ glowing this time, Tony is almost certain for that one second he's going to pay for his big mouth.

But then Loki simply inclines his head, and he says…

"We are done for this morning. Until then, fare thee well, Man of Iron."

And then he's gone, vanishing into nothing, and Tony is left alone in the kitchen.

The cup of tea is still there, left unfinished on the counter.

And Tony still thinks Loki is crazy.

But maybe crazy isn't as bad as he initially thought.

Certainly not evil…

Tony doesn't think.

He doesn't see how evil could create something as beautiful as that butterfly.

Or be so well spoken and smart and elegant and _gifted_.

Be so beautiful too…

Because Loki _is_ beautiful.

And Tony doesn't see how he could be evil.

He doesn't see how…

/

**AN: So, just a little note here. You may have seen I made Loki quite a bit older here than it's suggested he is in the films. I just thought I'd take a bit of liberty and align his age with something closer to what it would be in both the comics and Norse Mythology. If Loki's name has existed for thousands of years in human culture, I figure he's got to be at least that old, and likely older even. So, yeah. Just thought I'd explain that bit there. And also, I'm kind of just making this up as a go, so the whole thing about the Aesir not needing to eat and actually being immortal, well heck, they're GODS, and they're called immortals, so I figured, why not.**

**Huge thank you's to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get back to all of you. Had a bit of a hectic week, but I'd love to hear from you again, and I'll do my best to respond! Hope you enjoyed!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28:**

Steve grits his teeth, breathing harsh through his nose as he flicks the… whatever its called away from him. Mouse, Tony had explained to him?

He doesn't even understand what that's supposed to _mean_.

Why is it called a mouse? Because it's supposed to be shaped like one or something? It doesn't look anything like that, he doesn't think. And he can't figure this junk out anyway, and he's getting _angry_.

When did everything become so damned complicated and… abstract?

He sighs loudly, pressing his palms over his face and dragging them up, shoving his fingers through his hair in frustration.

He's about to give up, try for bed again, he doesn't know why he even _bothered _trying this whole "internet" thing anyway, when he nearly jumps straight out of his skin at the sound of the soft voice, spoken directly behind him and _close_.

"You need to tap the left button of the device two times in quick succession over the symbol on the screen to achieve the desired affect."

Steve whirls around, clutching his hand to his chest, staring up wide eyed and mouth agape at Loki, standing not more than two feet from where he's sitting, hands folded behind his back and standing with that impossibly straight backed posture of his, staring down at him, expression impassive. Still as a statue.

"… How did you…" he begins to stammer, breath coming out in a harsh gasp. "when did you…?"

Loki lifts a single eyebrow, unmoving.

Steve stares at him a long moment more, feeling viciously uneasy, before he forces his eyes over the god's shoulder, looking to the door, and then back again, trying to figure out how Loki could have entered the room without him noticing.

Another, long moment of silence, and then Loki lifts his chin slightly, considering the shorter man before answering…

"I am able to teleport Captain. If you will recall?"

Dawning realization comes over Steve's features, and if possible, he feels even more unnerved.

That just isn't natural, he thinks. It's just not…

Loki nods towards the computer screen again, repeating himself.

"You wish to open a…" he smirks slightly. "_web page_? You must click the left button of the device you just flung across the desk twice in quick succession over the symbol on the screen, and you will achieve the desired affect."

Steve hesitates a moment, keeping his eyes locked on the mischief god before finally turning, glancing back at the computer screen, and then to the mouse, turned upside down, lodged behind the monitor and the speaker.

Slowly, he reaches out, and he can't believe it, his fingers are trembling slightly as he grabs the device and pulls it back out, righting it along the pad.

He turns back to Loki, eyeing him warily.

"… How do you know how to use this stuff?" He asks. "They don't have computers and this kind of technology back on Asgard, do they?"

Loki's smile widens, and he shakes his head no.

"Not of this specific kind, no." He answers. "But, you will find Captain, knowledge is my passion. I make it a point to _learn _things."

Suddenly, Loki is leaning down and forward, and Steve can't quite help it as he presses back into his seat, eyes fixed hard on the trickster, heart hammering in his chest as images of three days previous flash through his mind, all those men, brutally murdered, lying broken and dead in pools of their own blood.

If Loki notices his sudden fear, he gives no indication, simply reaching over the super soldier and laying his large hand over the mouse.

"Watch what I do." He says, and Steve turns, eyes following as Loki demonstrates how to work the mouse and internet.

The god makes it look easy, and Steve can't help the slight flush of embarrassment which comes to his cheeks that he would have such a difficult time doing the same thing. He may have missed the technological revolution that introduced all this stuff, but it was invented by humans, and he was _still _from Earth. Loki wasn't either of those things and he still knew how to work it like he'd been around it all his life. Like he'd grown up with it.

"You see?" Loki is saying, moving the mouse around. "Pay attention to what the arrow does. You direct it here."

And Steve continues to watch as the god shifts the arrow over what the super soldier vaguely remembers Tony calling an address bar, clicking once.

"You then write, or… what is that word you mortals use? Type, I believe, using this contraption." His long fingers move to the keyboard, lazily pressing a few keys at random. "The term for it escapes me at the moment."

"Keyboard?" Steve offers, remembering again back to what Tony had explained.

And Loki grins, nodding almost enthusiastically.

"Yes, keyboard. Thank you."

It's almost unsettling, Steve thinks, glancing up at him, seeing such an… innocent expression on the god's face.

But then, now that he's gotten over his initial shock and notices, Loki isn't wearing anything more than a loose fitting tunic which he seems to be drowning in, and some pants, which also seem much too large, hanging, almost sagging at his hips, and Steve is suddenly struck by the thought that Loki is wearing Thor's cloths.

He pushes down the odd feeling that gives him and tries to ignore it.

It's strange enough, seeing Loki like this.

Steve isn't afraid to admit that, usually, the mischief god cuts an intimidating figure. He absolutely towers over the soldier in height, and always stands with such rigid and elegant posture, with such surety, it only makes him seem taller still.

But seeing him in that shirt and pants, clearly two or three sizes too big for him, he seems almost… floppy, and… _small_.

Steve can see Loki's chest and collarbone now, from the way the too big shirt slips down as he leans forward, almost off his shoulder.

He's _so_ thin, and also for the first time, Steve is struck by the contrast between him and Thor. Thor, whose muscles look like they have muscles, who's several inches taller than Loki still, and thrice as thick.

He saw just yesterday Thor lift Loki into the air like he weighed nothing and spin him around, laughing. Loki had been less than amused by the whole thing, whacking Thor on the shoulder and demanding to be put down, threatening all kinds of violence if he wasn't listened to, and after a few moments, Thor had obliged. But he'd still been laughing, even as Loki had glared at him, and Steve was left with the impression that, though he'd commanded Thor to release him, there would have been very little Loki could have done to escape the larger god's arms if Thor had been intent on holding him still. Nothing short of using his magic, anyway.

Steve had wondered what that must have been like, to grow up with Thor then. Thor was _very_ physical, to say the least. He liked to grab and hold and touch. He almost always took you into a hug upon seeing you in the morning, squeezing tightly, seeming unaware of his own strength, the feeling disconcerting, almost suffocating when he would engulf you in his arms as he did.

Loki, by contrast, was extremely standoffish and kept to himself, at least from the little Steve had seen of him. He didn't seem to like to touch at all.

Steve remembered being a kid and being pushed around by kids bigger and stronger than him, which had been almost everyone back then. He remembered being held down a lot, overpowered, and he remembered the utter feeling of helplessness he'd been faced with those times, and the terrifying panic which had exploded in his chest when he thought he couldn't get away, no matter how much he struggled, no matter how hard he fought.

Thor gave the impression of being a rowdy, roughhousing sort of guy, even now. Steve could only imagine that being more the case when he was a child, and it struck the super soldier with an almost nauseating fear, when he imagined the strength he felt in Thor's frame whenever the thunderer took him into his arms, how casually he used it and seemed unconscious of it, and then imagined that same, glib behavior, only amplified, and instead of him, he saw Loki as a child, thinking he couldn't have been more than a slip of a thing, given how he was built now, imagining Thor's power and his rough, almost violent physicality, against Loki's reserved, withdrawn tightness.

Loki was _strong_, to put it mildly. Steve remembered that from the tussle he'd gotten into with the god in Germany, all that time ago, and then again in Paris. The Captain had no delusions over who would win in a fight between him and the trickster. Even without his magic, Loki could crush him like an ant, if he really wanted to.

But Thor was stronger still, it seemed. Maybe even a _lot _stronger. The way he dragged Loki about and was able to shift him around with such ease would suggest it, Steve thought. It was weird to see.

And Steve found himself wondering further if Thor was the exception on Asgard, if the rest of the gods, or whatever they were, were less physically impressive than him, or if it was Loki. If Loki was… strange as it seemed, _undersized _among them.

Something about Loki made Steve think it was the latter. The way Loki often stood with his arms across his chest, how he seemed to constantly stand with his head up, making full use of his height, how he always covered himself so completely, from head to toe, never exposing any part of his skin, except now, with his feet bare.

It gave the impression, to Steve anyway, that Loki was almost trying to hide, that he was trying to cover up what he looked like underneath.

Steve understood that. When he'd been a kid… before the serum, he'd always worn long sleeved shirts and pants, even in the summer when it was uncomfortably hot. He didn't want anyone seeing how scrawny he was, even though everyone knew anyway. Some things you just couldn't cover up.

Maybe he was assuming too much about Loki. Probably was. But just something about the god…

He reminded Steve of himself.

He's jerked from his thoughts when he notices Loki staring down at him, having straightened up, that unnervingly focused look in his too clear eyes.

"I startled you Captain." He states, not a question.

Steve stares back at him a moment, confused.

"What?" He asks. And then he realizes. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm just… I wasn't expecting…" he fumbles with his words a moment, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

God, he wishes Loki would stop _looking_ at him like that.

Loki smirks, and then steps around to the other side of the desk, back to the super soldier now, head turning as he takes in the room.

Steve looks at him a moment, swallowing.

"I didn't mean to, uh… I mean, I'm sorry if I offended you in some… some way."

And suddenly Loki is turning, looking down at him.

His arms are crossed over his chest and Steve can't help but notice.

Loki smiles widely.

"Offend, Captain?" He asks smoothly, as though confused, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Uh, well, I mean… just, that is…" Steve stammers out, and Loki cuts him off with a quiet chuckle.

"It is well Captain. Do not trouble yourself. You are right to be wary of me, and if I were to take offense at every person I have ever managed to discomfort, I would be a highly offended individual indeed. But do know, it was not my intention to unnerve you so. I forget my manners, used to coming and going as I please. And you have been kind to me."

For a long, few seconds, Steve doesn't know what to say, what to make of that statement. He stares up at the god with a furrowed brow, mouth hung slightly open.

Loki stares back, unflinching.

Until Steve at last snaps out of it, and he looks away.

"Uh, well, yeah, that's… that's fine. I mean, I don't… it's no big deal, really."

Loki's eyes narrow, and his grin stretches.

"You are a terrible liar, Captain. One may think it a very _big deal_, to show kindness towards a formally, very dangerous opponent when it is by far the easier course, to offer indifference, if not outright cruelty."

And Steve's cheeks flush again.

He shrugs, eyes falling away. He really doesn't know how to respond to that.

"… I'm just doing what anyone would."

He hears Loki give a half laugh, half scoff in response, but otherwise, no reply, and the super soldier runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back and breathing out roughly, mind racing with what to do next, what to say.

He doesn't know why he's so damned nervous.

"S… so, couldn't sleep, huh?" He decides to change the subject, glancing up warily.

"It seems few of us are finding rest this night." Loki answers. "I only just came from the kitchens, where I held conversation with your Man of Iron."

"… Tony?" Steve asks, startled. Horrible thoughts of Tony lying dead in a pool of his own blood flash through the super soldiers mind, and he pushes the thoughts away quickly, scolding himself.

"He remains among the living, do not fret." Loki smiles, and Steve feels momentarily ill.

Either Steve had just spoken his thoughts aloud without realizing it, or Loki was horrifyingly good at reading people.

Steve thinks the former would be preferable, in this circumstance.

Loki's head is cocked to the side now, looking down at him with questioning eyes.

Steve _really_ doesn't enjoy the way those eyes glow. It speaks of an unnatural power which can't be explained by science or technology or anything _human_.

It's like looking into a Vampires eyes or something as equally unreal.

"And what keeps you from dreams this night, Captain?" He asks suddenly, and Steve feels the apprehension tightening his chest increase tenfold.

He can't lie to Loki, that's been made obvious. The god would see right through that and probably just push further for answers he didn't want to give.

And Steve really didn't relish the idea of trying to dodge questions from _this_ guy. He was worse than Natasha, and the few times he'd tried keeping information from _her_ hadn't exactly turned out his way.

He breaths out unsteadily, glancing away again, fixing his eyes on the wall to his right.

Maybe if he's vague…

He shrugs, and then mutters out…

"Just… thinking about the past." He says.

"Ah." Loki replies quickly, as though he were expecting the answer.

There's a brief movement in the periphery of the super soldiers vision, and then a shimmering flash of gold.

When he looks back, there's a chair sitting there that hadn't been before, and Loki is sitting in it.

Steve suppresses the urge to shutter. He doesn't think he's ever going to get used to that.

Loki gestures forward in that elegant way of his, bowing his head slightly.

"Tell me." He says, and Steve frowns.

Isn't that exactly what he said to Natasha, back on the hellicarrier?

He couldn't help feeling suddenly defensive, sure at once that Loki was aiming to manipulate him in some way.

"… I'd rather not." He answers back then, voice clipped and curt.

Loki leans back slightly, regarding him thoughtfully, silent a long moment.

He doesn't look angry, as Steve feared he might. But then, he doesn't look happy either.

Steve isn't sure _what _he looks like. Loki's face seems like an impenetrable mask to him, most of the time.

"It is painful for you." The mischief god finally speaks, apparently unwilling to drop it.

Steve doesn't answer this time, body tensing.

He abruptly just wishes Loki would leave, and then immediately feels bad about thinking such thoughts, for some, inexplicable reason.

"You fear I intend your manipulation Captain." Loki is talking again. He shakes his head lightly. "Do not. I only am curious. You interest me, you see. You are a man misplaced, in time, yes, but it seems to me more than that. You are what they call a good soldier, and you are. But in some intangible way, the uniform fits you ill. There is gentility in you Captain."

And now Steve is glaring at Loki, unable to hide his displeasure.

"Loki, look, I don't know what game you're tying to play here, but I really don't feel like talking about this with you. Okay?"

And for the briefest of instants, there is a flash through the god's eyes, something almost like _hurt_. But just as quickly, it's gone, replaced by the same, cold indifference of before.

"I see." He says, voice unnervingly calm, and almost inaudibly quiet.

At once, Loki is standing, smoothing his shirt down, his eyes finally having slipped away from Steve's.

"My apologies for disturbing you this night Captain." He's saying. "I do hope you will forgive my intrusion, and I bid you good morrow."

"Loki," Steve sighs, looking up at him. "wait. I'm sorry. Look, I just… your right. The past is painful for me to talk about, to… to even think about, and I get defensive sometimes when I shouldn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound like I don't trust you or…"

"But you do not." Loki cuts him off, and there's a hard edge to his voice which gives the super soldier pause. Loki looks at him again, eyes as hard as his voice. "Do not apologize, you have no cause to trust me."

Loki turns away, shoulders stiff and back straight.

"… No one does." He mutters, seemingly to himself.

"Loki…" Steve feels genuinely bad now. He can't believe it.

"When I was a boy, Captain…" The trickster suddenly begins, voice soft. "when I was a boy, I found myself…"

He pauses, head lowering, and Steve can see his frame winding tighter, even from here.

"discontent."

He turns back to Steve, and there is a bitter smile playing on his lips.

"Asgard is called the Realm Eternal, Captain Rogers." He goes on. "Not simply for its unending existence, but for its unchanging ways. Things are done a certain way there, certain things expected of all who grace her lands. Certain requirements to be met. Those who fail…"

Here he laughed, but like the smile, there was no, real merriment in it.

"well, let us say Asgard too can be an unforgiving Realm. I know something of what it is to be outcast, Captain. To feel misplaced, and unfitting."

The god stared, gaze unyielding for a long instant.

And then he shifted, eyes glancing down, hands folding together at his front.

"You will forgive my intrusion Captain, I hope. And for burdening you with my assumptions and inquiries. I pray I have not put you too terribly off my character. The others contempt is expected, and for me easily dismissed. But it would displease me to know I have given you further cause to feel the same."

He waves a hand over the conjured chair, the object shimmering out of existence, and begins moving for the door.

"Loki, wait…" Steve calls out, stopping him.

He isn't sure what he's doing, but whatever it is, it just doesn't feel right to him, letting Loki leave like that.

He doesn't know the man at all. He knows this. And maybe the god is just manipulating him.

But maybe he isn't too.

And after what he just said…

It was true, the other members of the team, while not outright cruel to Loki, certainly weren't exactly welcoming him with open arms, and…

Steve isn't sure, but Loki seems so… _lonely_ to him, sometimes. Even with Thor around, Loki is always sitting by himself, when he's around the team at all.

And no one makes an effort outside of Thor to talk to him…

What harm could it do to talk to him now? Just a little.

And anyway, what Loki told him about himself, that was true, wasn't it?

"… I wanted to be an artist, growing up." He says, the first thing that comes to his mind.

Loki is silent, watching him, expression placid but intent, thoughtful even.

Steve shrugs, glancing away.

"You know. I wanted to be a painter. I love to draw, even still." He gestures lazily over to the desk by the bed, indicating the thick binder atop it. Loki's gaze shifts to it, observing a few, short seconds. "I've got a whole bunch of 'em. Sketchpads I draw in all the time. People I've met, places I've seen. That kind of stuff. I'm nothing special. Don't think I have any particular talent. But I enjoy it, and before the war… before…"

He pauses, unwanted memories flashing through his mind, things which happened so long ago but to him, seems like they happened only yesterday.

Again he shrugs.

"Well, I just thought maybe that's what I'd do with my life, before everything else."

When he looks back, Loki is regarding him with soft eyes, and Steve swears, he sees something almost like compassion there.

"You are an artist." He says quietly, smiling reservedly.

Steve shakes his head.

"No. I wanted to be, but I never made it to art school or anything like that."

"But you _are _an artist." Loki insists. "You have the soul of such a man."

He moves closer, smile broadening.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you Captain. You and I are perhaps more alike than one would presume. Do you know, magic is an art, though only sorcerers perhaps understand. Most especially, illusory magic requires great focus and finesse. You force it too hard, and what image you intend to weave may come out something less, or even deformed, in which case, you have failed entirely. The purpose of any illusion being to make whatever such indiscernible from the genuine."

There is an enthusiasm in Loki's voice Steve has never heard before, and he realizes, perhaps belatedly, that this is Loki's passion. Magic. It's what he _loves_, the same as Steve loves drawing, and painting.

And something about it, something about the excitement in Loki's eyes while speaking of it, he seems almost overwhelmed by having found someone who he thinks may understand that passion.

If the giant, unabashed grin spread across Loki's face is anything to go by, and Steve's never seen the trickster smile in such a way before, purely genuine and naked and… _happy_, then he thinks he's guessed right.

It's infectious, and the super soldier can't help smiling in return now.

"We are, each of us then, gentle men made warriors by our worlds." Loki goes on, nodding as if in affirmation to himself.

For a moment, his eyes go distant, like he's recalling some far away memory, and for a short, few seconds, silence fills the space between them.

And then his eyes refocus, and he looks down at Steve, smiling still, and he nods again, straightening.

"I have enjoyed our conversation this morning, Captain." He states. "I wish to extend my gratitude for your time spent with me."

Steve shrugs, looking away.

"It's no big deal." He mutters softly.

"Perhaps the importance of a thing is based on perspective." Loki replies.

And Steve can't help but smile again.

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "I guess it is."

Loki smiles back, and then bows his head to him once, hands folding behind his back.

"Then good morrow to you Captain. And perhaps I will see you again later this day, when your sun lights the sky."

"You too Loki." Steve replies. "And I hope so."

He watches then as the god moves, back around towards his door to make his exit. He wonders briefly why Loki doesn't just teleport out, but he guesses maybe there's no reason now.

"Hey, Loki…" he calls, just before the trickster disappears through the door.

Loki pauses, not turning.

Steve hesitates briefly before answering.

"… Maybe, sometime, I dunno… you could show me how your magic works, or…" he trails off, unsure of how to put it.

And now Loki does look back at him, over his shoulder, smirking slightly.

"I think I should enjoy that, Captain." He says.

He gives a single nod more, and then he's gone.

And despite himself, and his earlier reservations, Steve smiles, and he thinks Loki isn't so bad.

Not even.

Maybe not even so strange, or inhuman as he originally seemed.

Steve even thinks he might like talking to him more regularly, if the opportunity presents itself.

He sighs contentedly, feeling strangely happier, more at ease than he had the whole rest of that night.

He turns back round in his chair, towards the computer.

Immediately his eyes go wide, face flushing a bright shade of red, heat rising to the tips of his ears as he looks away from the screen in a panic, a shocked yelp escaping his lips.

There are pictures of… of… women, _naked _women, all over the screen, doing… doing _inappropriate_ things.

He curses angrily as he tries unsuccessfully to close the windows.

/

Outside, Loki stands, waiting.

"LOKI!" He hears Rogers' agitated, flustered voice through the door.

And he laughs quietly to himself, moving back down the hallway, silent as the night.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29:**

It is wandering the halls of the tower a few, short hours later, Loki's attention is caught by sounds emanating from what he's come to know as the "lounge". Moving closer, and he determines the sounds to be resounding from a television.

Closer still, and he senses the presence of two of the team. He is sure the Widow and Banner.

Rounding the corner and standing in the entries threshold, his suspicions are confirmed, seeing the two of them seated on a couch, their backs to him, watching some movie or show or some such.

He waits, watching with them for a time.

Until his attention is caught and held by the visuals. There is a dragon on the screen. Or, Loki thinks with a slight smile, a visual of a dragon.

He knows there are none left known on Midgard, and he wonders distantly if the humans remember their presence here at all.

Likely not.

Likely, the beasts have fallen into myth and lore much the same way the gods have.

The thought causes a kind of sadness to settle against Loki's chest, and he tries pushing that away.

Humans, in their quest for knowledge and power, have forgotten how to put their trust in faith.

And yet, all such knowledge is based on faith. On the belief of something.

The mortals have, Loki thinks, become arrogant in their sureness, and as such have unknowingly limited their own capacities.

He moves farther into the room, stepping silently, until he stands directly behind Banner and Ramanov.

They do not realize his presence.

"Hello."

When he speaks, Banner flinches visibly, and to her credit, the Widow gives no outward response, save for the very minute stiffening of her shoulders.

Anyone else would have missed it.

Loki must give credit where credit is due.

Banner turns around and stares up at him, noticeably strained, and Loki smiles softly at him.

He doesn't miss the way Natasha reaches out and places a soothing hand on the doctor's wrist.

It doesn't seem to help, and the tension in the Widow's shoulders worsens.

"Allow me." Loki says, reaching out.

He places the tips of his fingers to Banner's temple.

The both of them stiffen more severely, Natasha's eyes swiveling to the god, watching him with unmasked suspicion and fear.

"Relax." Loki speaks to the doctor, ignoring her.

And very suddenly, a soft light glows from his fingers, white, tinged green.

"What are you doing?" The Widow asks, urgency in her voice apparent, doing away with all masks of calm. Though she isn't panicked, and once more, Loki finds himself impressed with her.

"Helping him." Loki replies simply, and all at once, the tension in Banners frame dissipates completely, and he sags languidly in his seat, shoulders slumping and face growing lax.

Loki removes his hand and steps back, grinning sharply.

Natasha grabs hold of the doctors shoulders, looking him square in the face.

"Bruce? Are you okay?" She asks, voice hard.

He stares back at her a long moment, eyes seeming uncomprehending, before abruptly, recognition sparks them, and he smiles lazily.

"Yeah…" he says, slow, almost slurred. "Actually, yeah. I feel… really good."

Natasha watches him a long, few seconds, unconvinced.

Bruce just keeps smiling dumbly at her, until finally, she turns her gaze back to Loki, eyes narrowed.

"What did you do to him?" She demands.

Loki is watching the scene with mild amusement, eyes seeming to glitter, before he focuses his attention on her.

He shrugs mildly, folding his hands behind his back and straightening.

"A simple calming spell." He says. "It tricks the mind into a state of relaxation. It is a spell oft employed by healers to warriors wounded on the field of battle. It proves most affective in keeping them still and compliant."

"You _drugged _him?" Natasha presses, clearly displeased.

Loki's brow furrows in confusion, a slight frown playing along his lips.

"Pardon?"

The Widow stares back at him a moment, eyes sharp and accusatory, before she growls in seeming frustration and looks away.

"Never mind." She snaps out, raising a hand to Banners neck, checking his pulse.

Loki watches her, feeling his own frame wind suddenly with unwanted uncertainty.

"You are displeased." He says. It isn't a question.

"What do you think?" She asks back quickly, checking the doctors eyes.

Bruce laughs, batting her hands away weakly.

"I'm okay Tash." He insists.

"I'm making sure." She insists back, grabbing his face and looking into eyes more closely.

Loki shifts, continuing to watch.

"It was only my intention to help." He says after a moment.

"Yeah, well, you can't just go around messing with people's minds like that Loki."

Natasha shoots back, not bothering to look at him.

Loki's frown deepens.

"He might have transformed." He defends.

"Yeah, because of _you_." Natasha says. "If you didn't go skulking around and sneaking up on people like you do…"

Loki's mouth falls open to further defend himself, feeling his confusion growing into irritation.

But suddenly, he thinks better of it. The last thing he needs is to stir further hostilities with this group. He doesn't know how many chances they'll give him. More importantly, he doesn't know how many _Thor_ will give him.

His lips come back together and thin. He watches her with narrowed eyes a moment more, before turning away, his back to the two Avengers now.

"I apologize." He grits out between clenched teeth, doing his best to make it sound genuine.

"Sure you do." Natasha answers, leaning Bruce back against the cushions.

Loki turns back to her sharply.

"I am sincere." He snaps. "I meant only to aid him, not harm."

The Widow glances up at him, watching him a moment with sharp eyes.

"… How long will it last?" She asks.

_How long will it last? _He hears his own voice asking his Mother.

"As long as I wish it to." He answers, and then he lifts a hand and waves it over Banners head.

Natasha watches as Bruce's pupils grow wider, and suddenly, focus comes back into his eyes.

"Whoa." He breaths out, shaking his head as though trying to clear it from some fog.

"There." Loki says. "It is lifted. And disaster averted."

Abruptly then, he turns, beginning to stride long towards the entryway.

He is nearly there when he hears the Widow call out to him.

"Loki." She says.

He stops, not turning.

A moment passes, and then she say…

"Thank you."

Loki stills completely at that, frozen a moment, before he forces himself to nod, once, and starts back to leave.

"Do you…" Natasha calls out, then hesitating slightly. "Do you want to maybe join us?" She at last finishes.

Loki stands unmoving a moment, head tilted slightly aside, as though listening for something.

Before at last he turns, looking over his shoulder and smiling at her.

"I think I should want to very much."

/

Three hours later, and three episodes of "Game of Thrones" later, Loki is regaling both Bruce and Natasha with tales of a _real_ dragon.

"He is called Nidhogg, and he chews at the roots of Yiggdradsil."

"He… chews at the roots of Yiggdrasil?" Bruce stares up at the god incredulously.

Natasha just sits and continues to listen.

Loki nods, almost enthusiastically.

"Aye. And I assure you, he is far more impressive than the simple conjurings you mortals imagine dragons to be."

"So, wait, you've actually _seen_ this dragon?" Bruce presses.

"Indeed." Loki replies. "Many times. Though only a brave few Aesir have ever dared to venture to the Realm of Neiflheim to seek him out."

There is a hint of pride to Loki's voice which is unmistakable. Which Natasha recognizes.

She knows, because it's the same hint which sometimes seeps into her voice while recalling particularly successful missions to Clint.

Loki is most definitely a creature of pride, she thinks.

She wouldn't necessarily say she was too, but she understands the sentiment.

She's seen it enough times in enough marks.

Usually, she wouldn't hesitate to use it as a weakness against them.

But she's got no cause to do so against the god, and anyway, she isn't stupid enough to think he wouldn't at any point be able to see straight through her.

She'd learned her lesson with the trickster.

She almost smirks, thinking of the title. Trickster indeed. She can think of no more fitting designation.

She almost… _admires_ him, she thinks. From one fellow manipulator to another.

Though, she supposes, Loki might be insulted by the comparison, considering he was more or less the _father _of lies.

She wonders further if he would find such a statement also insulting, considering it was also what the Devil was referred to in Christianity.

Clint told her what Loki said to him… about meeting Jesus.

She still isn't sure she quite believes that one.

But still…

Something about him…

He looks so young, but his _bearing_…

She's seen that too.

Old souls in young bodies.

That _is_ something she relates to.

One need only look into the gods eyes to know he's seen more than what could ever be conveyed in words. Though listening to him now, recalling for them one of, supposedly, numerous journeys to see the dragon at the roots of the World Tree, his eloquence might prove up to the task.

Loki is an animated story teller. With lots of flourish and entertainment value.

He doesn't simply orate, he acts it out. Complete with miniature versions of all the principle players.

He conjures them with his magic, whirling out of thin air what only looks like true and real versions of himself, and Nidhogg, and various other characters between.

Natasha realizes, belatedly, that the word "character" seems to apply all too well to the being sitting before her, and all those he's spoken of.

They're straight out of fairy tales.

"And this is Hela," Loki is saying, twisting his hand. A twelve inch figure solidifies in the air, hovering over his palm, standing and moving delicately as it begins to interact with the tiny version of himself he holds in his other hand.

It is a woman, though… she is strange looking, Natasha realizes. One half indescribably beautiful, the other, almost sickeningly hideous. The skin there sags and hangs off her, almost like it is rotting away, revealing bone underneath, and nothing more.

"Ruler of the underworld. And my daughter."

Bruce's eyes go comically wide.

"Your _daughter_?" He nearly chokes, clearly disbelieving.

Loki smiles warmly, as though the fact makes him proud.

He nods.

"Yes. She is the keeper of souls departed. You must seek permission of her before being allowed passage through her Realm, and so with each journey to the great dragon, you must first find your way past her. That alone is enough to put most men off the attempt."

He grins almost savagely then, a vicious pride.

"I'm guessing her being your daughter helps with that then." Bruce says, still not sounding as though he's quite able to swallow all of this.

Loki laughs, light and genuine.

"Indeed. Hela and I have a fine familiarity between us. I would even be so bold as to proclaim our relationship close. I… I make a habit of going to see her when I can."

His voice trails off, and suddenly, his eyes go distant, like he's remembering something.

"Which, admittedly… is not often." He looks down, his hands fidgeting slightly. "One cannot regard a trip through Hel with flippancy, and… the way there is not easily acquired, even for myself."

The room falls silent then, stretching for long, uncomfortable seconds.

Whatever Loki is thinking, it doesn't seem as though it brings him any contentment.

"I've studied some Norse myth since you and your brother came down to Earth." Natasha finally breaks in. "It talks about you having a few kids."

She isn't sure if this is at all a good idea, but things seem to have come to a screeching halt all of a sudden, and for some reason she can't explain, she feels bad.

Loki looks up at her, eyes gleaming. She would swear they're wet, but it's impossible to tell with him when his features are so impassive. It might just be the unnatural glow of them.

He stares at her a long moment, before suddenly, his lips thin into a wan smile, and he nods weakly.

"Aye." He says.

And then he falls quiet again, and Natasha wonders if she hasn't made a mistake.

She's about to change the subject to something less painful, if the myths she read are at all accurate, before at once he begins speaking again, voice low and quiet and _strained_.

"I have several children." He says. "Or, rather… _had_."

He's looking down at his hands again, and a visible tension has wound its way through his thin frame.

Bruce shifts uncomfortably, and Natasha doesn't dare to interrupt.

"Narfi and Vali are…" he pauses again, and his lips, if possible, thin further, and though it might be imperceptible to anyone else, the Widow sees the vague tremble working through his limbs and hands. "they are dead." He finishes, voice impossibly steady, as though he's completely resigned and accepting of the fact, though the anguish there is obvious, even to one not of Natasha's observation skills.

"… How did they die?" Bruce asks softly, trying to keep his voice kind.

"Violently." Is all Loki says.

And neither Bruce nor Natasha are quite bold enough to press the issue.

"My other two, Fenrir and Jormungand were banished, many, many centuries ago." Loki goes on suddenly, shifting the focus away. "And my fifth son, Sleipnir, serves as my Fath…" he stops, hands clenching, frame rigid now. "serves as Odin All-Father's steed."

"Wait," Bruce begins, carefully, voice soft. "Your son is a horse?"

Loki nods.

"Aye, an eight legged Stallion. The swiftest in all the Nine Realms. And Fenrir is a wolf, Jormungand the world serpent, a giant snake. Though rumors of his size are greatly exaggerated."

"… Why were they banished?" Natasha dares to ask.

And a grim smile slides up Loki's face, his eyes flashing away, staring distantly.

"…Fate." He answers. "You see…"

And he looks back to the two Avengers.

"Me and my kin are destined to end the gods."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30:**

Clint glances around the media room, brow furrowing, a deep frown pulling at the corners of his lips. His hands rest on his hips as he stands at the rooms center, and he thinks.

He's already been to the kitchen, and to the rec. room. And he hasn't seen a single sign of any of his teammates. He's getting fed up by now, beginning to wonder if they haven't run off to some mission without him. This is what he gets for sleeping in, he supposes. For once in his life.

But he knows the notion is absurd. They wouldn't leave him behind for something like that.

He thinks about checking Tony's workshop. But the only person Tony really lets in there is Pepper and Bruce and…

Clint feels his muscles tighten at the thought…

Loki…

Tony's actually been letting Loki into his workshop _willingly_ lately. Not that Tony could stop the god from entering if he really wanted to. But Clint has actually seen Stark _invite_ the little shit in, and the billionaire always seems to have some shit eating grin on his face every time they emerge, going on and on about what a genius Loki is, how brilliant he is, blah, blah, blah.

Clint doesn't have a clue what's going on there, and he doesn't think he really wants to either. He's taken to zoning his mind out whenever Tony starts in about the god. It's almost like he's _gushing_. Clint's never heard Tony gush about anyone but himself, and again, the assassin finds himself wondering if Loki's put some kind of spell on the man.

He sighs.

This is ridiculous. He might as well just ask Jarvis where everyone is, he thinks.

"Hey, Jarv!" He calls up to the ceiling.

"Yes, Mr. Barton?" The AI replies promptly.

"Where the heck is everyone?" He asks.

"Your teammates are currently all gathered in the training facility on the twelfth floor, Mr. Barton." Jarvis says.

Clint's brows rise.

"What are they doing there?" He asks, already making his way towards the elevators.

"I believe they are engaged in watching a sparring session between the brothers Odinson, Mr. Barton." Jarvis goes on. "Though perhaps 'sparring' is too light a term to describe the activity. They seem to be attacking one another with great ferocity."

Clint's frown deepens as he steps onto the elevator.

"_What_?" He asks. "They're _fighting_? And what, everyone's just sitting around _watching _this?"

"I do not believe the battle is as serious as that, Mr. Barton." Jarvis replies coolly. "But perhaps the Asgardian definition of sparring is more severe than we would define it here on Earth."

Clint shakes his head, pressing the button for the twelfth floor.

As the lift starts to move, he tries not to think about how Stark Tower has been turning into a mad house ever since the two Norse gods decided to make it their crash pad.

He tries doubly hard not to think about how, lately, he seems to be the only one who minds…

/

The doors slide open, and he's met with a cacophonous yell, followed by stunned gasps and exclamations. And then the sound of metal on metal.

He sees his team immediately, gathered together in a small cluster near the far east end of the room, watching transfixed Thor and Loki, a few paces in front of them, clashing against one another with swords…

… _Swords_?

Clint barely has time to register the medieval weaponry or wonder where the hell they got them before the two gods break apart, and circle each other slowly, eyes fixed and serious.

Without even thinking, the assassin starts forward, silently falling into line with the rest of the team, watching.

Loki is sweating heavily along the forehead, and looks decidedly more spent than Thor, breathing harder.

They circle again, and a sly smirk slides up along the thunder god's lips, before without further warning, he lunges forward, raising his sword in the air and coming down with a hard swipe, directed right at his brother's head.

Again, everyone gasps, Clint included, sure in that moment Thor intends to kill Loki. The elder Prince moves with such deceptive speed and grace.

But then Loki steps back, raising his own sword and meeting Thor's halfway down, blocking the blow. Though it seems just barely, and the smaller god slides back from the impact, his teeth setting, grinding together.

It doesn't escape Clint's notice, the way Loki's arms shake as he pushes back against the blow.

Thor's smirk spreads into a grin, and he laughs heartily.

"Very good brother!" He announces, as though it really is some sort of game.

Loki doesn't crack a smile himself. His face is all serious business and deadly concentration as he glares back at Thor.

And it is abrupt, and almost too fast to follow as Thor at once slides his blade off of Loki's own, turning it. In a rush of movement, he slams the butt of the hilt hard against Loki's mouth, and Loki stumbles back, momentarily dazed and surprised.

Thor wastes no time in bringing the sword back around, using the broad side of it against the backs of the trickster's knees, effectively sweeping him off his feet.

Loki lands with a heavy thud against his back, losing his grip on his own sword, the weapon skittering away, eyes momentarily startling wide at the impact. And in an instant, Thor has his sword held to Loki's throat, his foot on his chest, grinning widely down at him.

"Give up yet little brother?" He asks triumphantly.

Loki growls, and Clint can't help but smile, seeing Loki getting his ass handed to him like that.

Everyone else only stares with wide, shocked eyes.

Without warning then, Loki reaches up, wrapping his hand around Thor's blade, and it is suddenly the metal glows orange, all the way up to the hilt, and Thor yelps in surprise at the burning heat against his palm, instantly dropping the weapon and stumbling back.

Loki keeps hold of the sword only a moment more before tossing it away, and is back on his feet doubly quick, moving towards the elder god quickly, a green energy glowing at the tips of his fingers.

Thor recovers quickly from his shock, and is already facing his brother in an offensive stance, ready to meet him head on.

Instantly, Loki motions forward, and a blast of light erupts from his hands, directed straight at Thor. And Thor barely manages to avoid the blow, dropping to his knees and rolling out of the way.

Loki turns to follow him, frowning deeply, shooting off another blast. And Thor manages to escape the blow by even less, his hair tousling from the energy coming so close.

Thor laughs.

"You'll have to do better than that Loki!"

Loki huffs, clearly annoyed.

"As you desire it brother." He says, voice unnervingly calm, and he takes a step towards the thunder god, more energy gathering in his hands.

In the same moment, Thor rolls, and he's taken up his lost sword again, bringing it up just in time to deflect the younger gods next blow, the magic crackling at it hits the mettle, dissipating out over the blade in strange patterned strands before disappearing completely.

And now Loki's frustration seems tenfold, stepping forward again, and he motions with his hands, a gust of wind coming from nowhere and sweeping Thor off his feet, landing the larger god on his back with an "oomph".

Loki advances swiftly, before Thor can move to get up, motioning again, and at once it seems a frozen spike like some immense icicle forms at the tips of Loki's fingers, his hand gripping around the weapon.

There is another collective gasp as he is upon Thor, pressing his foot to the larger god's chest now as had been done to him earlier, pushing the ice blade to his throat.

And now it is Loki's turn to smirk.

"Do you yield?" He asks smoothly.

There is a moment of tense silence, eyes transfixed and anticipating, Thor glaring back up at his younger brother, seeming to contemplate the question.

Before suddenly a wide grin spreads across his face, and he laughs loudly.

"Indeed brother, you have bested me. I yield."

Loki can't help the satisfied smile which moves up along his lips, and immediately he steps back, the ice blade retracting back into his hand, and a moment later Thor rolls quickly to his knees and then back to his feet.

He reaches out an arm to the smaller god, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling him in tight, using his free hand to ruffle Loki's hair, grinning broadly.

"You did well brother!" He says proudly, and despite his flustered annoyance at Thor's aggressive affection, Loki can't suppress his smile at the thunder god's words. A genuine smile.

"Bullshit!" Clint suddenly yells, and everyone turns to him, eyes wide.

Clint glances around at them, frowning.

"That's bullshit." He repeats, gesturing angrily towards the two gods. "He only won 'cause he _cheated_! Because he used his stupid voodoo crap! He was getting his ass kicked otherwise!"

"You will hold your tongue Barton!" Thor roars immediately, releasing his grip on Loki and stepping towards the archer. "Loki, do not listen to him. He knows not of what he speaks. You won fairly brother, you…"

He turns to glance at his little brother, to reassure him, and quickly he feels his heart sink at the expression across the younger gods face.

He is staring at the assassin, frowning.

But there is no anger there.

Only a familiar hurt. A familiar disappointment.

And as Thor turns more fully, reaching out to Loki, in a flash, the trickster is gone, vanishing from the room.

Thor stares at the empty space a long moment, feeling his frame numb before, in an instant, it turns to rage, and he whips back around on the team, eyes fixing on Clint.

"You fool!" He snaps. "You complete fool! How dare you discredit my brother's victory? You understand not what you have done!"

Clint gapes, momentarily stunned before he finds his own voice.

"Come on Thor! He _cheated_!" He starts to defend. "I'm just sticking up for you! He never would've won if he hadn't used that magic crap of his!"

Thor steps forward threateningly, and Clint can't help stepping back, a shot of fear coursing through him.

"You would deride and belittle my brother's magic, and yet you have no words of criticism for it when he uses such to defeat _your _enemies. When he has used it countless times already to rescue you from further harm!"

Clint is silent as again, Thor steps closer, and the rest of the team moves out of his way, watching nervously.

"Beside his mind, Loki's magic is his greatest weapon, as legitimate a weapon as any blade or axe or hammer or _bow_. And a weapon far more difficult, requiring far greater skill and talent to wield than _any _of those. You have no standing, no _rank_ to criticize the use of it in battle or sparring. When it is a weapon you could never even _conceive _of controlling. You have suffered Loki great insult, Barton, and you _will_ offer him apology for it."

Clint scoffed.

"Like hell I wi…"

"Clint, shut the hell up!" Tony cuts in.

Clint turns towards the billionaire, stunned.

"_What_?" He shoots.

"I said shut the hell up." Tony repeats, calmly. "You're a damned idiot, and you're just making it worse. So shut up."

Clint stares back, momentarily stunned into silence.

Tony ignores him, looking to Thor.

"We're sorry big guy." He says, moving closer to the thunder god. "We're really sorry. Clint's an idiot, but he'll apologize. Don't worry."

"This is bullshit!" Clint finally finds his voice again. "I'm not going to apologize to that little fu…"

"_Clint_!" Natasha steps in now, grabbing hold of his arm, gripping tightly. "_Shut. Up_. Just be quiet! Do you not see what you're doing?"

"Do I…?" Clint's brow furrows. "Do you not see what _you're_ doing? What… what this _is_?"

"Clint, come on." Bruce starts. "Loki's been a part of this team for a few months now. He's done good. Why can't you just drop it? Until he gives us reason to doubt him, there's no reason for this kind of attitude."

"Until he gives us reason?" Clint snaps. "He's already _given_ us reason! Or have you all forgotten about what he did last time he was here on Earth?"

"My brother had paid for his crimes!" Thor spits. "He has made amends and continues to by offering his service to your cause."

"Oh, forgive me for not thinking a few months of being smacked around by his Daddy is enough to pay for killing over a hundred people!" Clint shouts back, losing his cool completely.

"And how many have you killed?" Thor says. "How many have died in the line of your duty?"

"That's beside the point!" Clint argues. "He was trying to take over the planet!"

"He was misguided!" Thor yells, his voice booming, filling the space and shocking everyone else into silence. "And lost. He thought himself justified in his cause. No different from you."

"Oh, that's rich…" Clint mutters. "You know what, forget it. Just… forget it. I'm sorry I even brought it up. I'm sorry about this whole thing…"

Without another word, he turns, striding towards the exit, disappearing a moment later through the doors.

And the room falls into a tense silence, before eventually, Thor strides from the room as well.

No one tries to stop him, knowing already where he's headed, knowing it isn't their place to interfere.

/

"What was he like as a kid?" Steve asks suddenly.

They're gathered in the rec. room, lounging, sitting round the coffee table, talking idly about nothing in particular.

Clint's left the tower hours ago, everyone agreeing it was best to let the archer cool down on his own. And hopefully allowing him to think about what he did, and how wrong it was.

Loki, according to Thor, had gone straight to his room, and he hasn't left since. The thunder god had spent the last several hours in there with him, before finally emerging and joining the rest of the team here.

He hadn't spoken about how his brother was, and no one had asked, figuring if Thor was going to tell them, he would.

But now everyone glances towards the Captain, intent.

Steve shifts somewhat uncomfortably, eyes shifting around before glancing back to Thor.

"I mean, uh… growing up, what was… what was Loki like?" He repeats.

The question is genuine.

Despite Loki having been a part of the Avengers for the last two months, none of them really… know much about him.

The trickster rarely leaves his room, it seems.

Never joining them for any of their regular group activities, never eating with them or going out with them except when there's some threat needing to be addressed.

Tony's been able to get him to come and see his workshop a few, spare times, but that's about it.

He's been known to wander the tower by himself at night. Something which doesn't sit particularly well with Steve, but he hasn't said anything about it.

All of them have more than a few times run into the trickster during the early morning, when they couldn't sleep for one reason or another, or woke up early.

Steve's wondered often if Loki sleeps at all.

He's… strange.

It isn't that he's rude, or unfriendly, Steve muses.

The times he's run into Loki, the god has been almost uncomfortably cordial and polite.

Steve doesn't really know how to talk to him…

He doesn't want to use the word intimidated, but that's sometimes what he feels when he interacts with the trickster.

Something about the way Loki looks at him…

It's like he can see straight through him. See every dirty, little secret and humiliating truth Steve doesn't want anyone to know about.

Thor is looking at him now, his expression strangely unreadable a moment, before very slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips. Though the expression seems almost sad, Steve thinks, and he worries suddenly that maybe he's made a mistake asking.

The others are looking to the thunder god expectantly now, and Thor glances around at them.

"You wish to know of Loki as a boy?" He asks, and there's a hopeful anticipation in his voice.

"That's actually a good question Capsical." Tony says. "I totally want to know 'bout kid Loki."

Steve shoots him a glare, but says nothing, simply looking back to Thor.

For a long moment, the god is silent, his eyes casting down, the small smile fading entirely from his face as he seems to think.

No one dares to interrupt.

And then Thor begins, voice strangely soft, almost reverent sounding.

"Loki was a frail child." He says.

He pauses again, several moments passing.

"It is how he came to find his way to our family." He starts again. "Abandoned by his birth parents, at the end of the war with Jotunheim."

"Abandoned?" Tony asks.

Thor looks up to him, nodding gravely.

"He was left to die by his father, Laufey, in a temple of worship. It was the dead of winter on Jotenheim, more bitterly cold than at any other time of the season. Loki was left there to die, barely a day old."

"_Why_?" Steve starts, unable to keep the horror from his voice.

"He was a runt." Thor answers. "Severely undersized. Physical strength is an attribute among the Frost Giants greatly regarded. Laufey thought it a stain upon his house and name to have sired so fragile a child. He cared not that Loki was heir to the thrown."

"Wait a second, this Laufey guy was a _King_?" Tony questions.

Thor nods.

"Aye. Ruler of Jotunheim."

"And he left his own son to _die_?" Bruce begins, clearly unnerved.

Again, Thor nods.

"Our father, Odin, he found Loki and took him in. Raised him as his own. For many centuries though, Loki remained physically frail, prone often to sickness and ill-health. And ever has he been more slight than our kin, even as he eventually grew past his weaker constitution upon entering his warrior age. It was a point of much harassment for Loki amongst others, both older and younger and of the same age. Physical strength is similarly lauded on Asgard as it is in Jotunheim, and children can be very cruel."

"They'd pick on him?" Steve asks, swallowing, memories of his own childhood flashing through his mind.

And once more, Thor nods.

"They would. Oft times viciously. I would try to protect him but…" his voice trails off, and for a moment, he goes silent again, shaking his head.

"But you asked of Loki as a boy, and I waste your time telling you of how others regarded him."

He looks up, smiling wanly.

"He was a beautiful child." He says, and the reverence is back in his voice. "Quiet and kind and achingly gentle. He did not enjoy honing his warriors skills as the rest of us did, nor the thrill of the hunt. He preferred his books and scrolls and ancient texts. I believe he must have spent a good three quarters of his childhood locked up in the library of Gladsheim." He laughs quietly. "Ever has he been a scholar, even as a boy. And never has he been a very social creature, if you wondered at his lack of participation among your group. He has always preferred solitude, though when he was social, he was by far the most charming among us."

Once more, he stops, eyes seeming for a moment to go distant.

"… It was Loki alone who had the wit to make me laugh always." He says, voice even softer. "I have never laughed so fully as I have when my brother would share a jest or tale of humor with me. Or play on me and my friends a bit of mischief. He was known as the trickster from his earliest age." Thor smiles fondly at the memory. "His mischief was ever harmless when he was younger…"

Again, he pauses, brow furrowing as he seems to consider.

"And fiercely loyal." He starts again. "Never have I felt myself more well protected or spoken for when Loki was at my side, either on the field of battle or when traveling to some other Realm for political negotiation and representation. Long has he served to advice me well. Ever has he been wise beyond his years. He was… he was to be my lead advisor, when the time came for me to take the thrown of Asgard."

"So then what happened?" Natasha finally speaks up. "If he was so loyal and gentle, how come he turned on you like he did?"

At the question, Thor's face seems to drain, and he glances away, a deep frown pulling at his lips.

"… I do not know, entirely." He says. "Our… our father kept it from Loki and from myself as well that he was adopted. Neither of us knew. My brother found out through pure accident."

He looks up.

"You must understand, on Asgard, the Jotuns have long been considered our enemy. Most Aesir regard them as nothing less than monsters. They are hated. Viciously hated."

The team stares at him in shocked silence.

Thor's frown deepens, before his gaze slides away.

"Loki did not take it well then to find he was of the very race so despised among us. I… I feel he may have feared my rejection, were I to find out, though he has never confirmed such to me. I… I was full with arrogance and bravado then, and often did I make claims of slaying the Frost Giants if ever given half a chance. Indeed, _did_ slay many of their kind, before my brother's very eyes even…" his voice trails off. "If I had known… if I had known what Loki was, I would never have…"

Again he pauses, and an uncomfortable silence falls over the group as Thor buries his face in his hands.

"I worry Loki may have feared I would kill him even, if ever I were to discover his true heritage. And I cannot… I cannot fault him for the fear either, if indeed he felt it, given my careless and bloodthirsty words and actions."

"Jesus…" Tony mutters.

Thor shakes his head.

"Loki already was thought ill of among many of our peers and even our elders. One so quick of mind and tongue was not well trusted among our kind. To discover he was Jotun then… I can only imagine Loki's feelings of isolation. I believe it was this which drove him to the madness of his actions, both on Asgard and here, on Midgard. Though I suspect… I suspect it was something further which drove him to attacking your Realm."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, leaning forward slightly.

"When Loki fell from the bridge, into the void… when he… when he jumped… he was… I believe it was the Chitauri who found him. Not he who found them. And… and I believe he… that is to say… I believe he may have been tortured by them, though he has never admitted as much to me."

"Tortured? As in…?" Tony says.

Thor nods grimly.

"But… I mean, if he hasn't told you, how do you know?" Bruce questions.

And Thor's face lines in dismay.

"It is… certain things he has said and…" his voice strains, and he glances away, attempting to compose himself. "My brother has… he has always suffered nightmares, but… the severity of them now seems worse than before. When he is able to sleep and I have caught his fits. He so rarely sleeps, you see… and…"

Once more, he stops, his hand lifting to his eyes, wiping roughly at them.

And he looks back to the others.

"It was not as Loki would execute a plan such as world subjugation." He says, voice firm. "He would not use brute force as he did, if he were genuine in his attempts to succeed. He would more likely infiltrate from the inside of your worlds established ruling parties and manipulate them into whatever position he wished of them. That is ever how Loki has worked. He is all subtly and trickery. It is not like him at all to attack so bluntly or obviously. So directly. He would find no satisfaction in such a victory. He enjoys his enemies not to understand they have lost until well after they have. Until it is too late to change the outcome."

A heavy silence falls over the room. A kind of tension, like nobody knows what to say.

It drags on, and Thor seems most sullen of all, his eyes fixing on his lap.

Until it is, after what must be several minutes, Tony speaks up, snapping everyone's attention to him.

"You know what I think?" He says, looking at Thor, pointing at him. "I think your brother is an incredible liar."

Thor frowns.

"What?" He asks.

And Tony nods.

"Yup. Your little bro is the best liar I've ever seen. Even better than Nat over here." He jerks his thumb in her direction. "No offense Nat." He says.

She shrugs.

"None taken."

Thor's expression creases in confusion.

"I do not understand the relevancy of your statement." He says. "Are you accusing Loki of lying about…"

Tony begins shaking his head, cutting him off.

"Naw big guy," he starts. "not about the Chitauri or any of that. Loki hasn't even made any claims regarding that, one way or the other. I'm talking about how he could have gone through all those millennia up in Asgard, being treated the way you say he was, and you _still_ not knowing anything was wrong."

Thor's frown deepens, and he says nothing.

"Thor, the _reason _Loki doesn't ever come out of his room, I think, is because he thinks nobody wants him _around_."

Quickly, Thor grows indignant.

"That is ridiculous!" He says. "Why would he think such a thing?"

"I can think of a few reasons." Tony says, rolling his eyes.

When no one replies, he breaths out, sighing.

"Look," he starts again. "when you two were living up in Asgard or whatever, you say Loki liked his alone time. Alright, I get that. I like my alone time sometimes too. Everyone does. But not _all the time_."

Thor's face grows contemplative.

"… Jane has expressed a similar sentiment." He mummers softly.

Tony nods.

"Right. Now, tell me this big guy, when you two were up in your shiny city, did Loki have anyone he hung out with?"

"Hung out?" Thor questions, unsure.

"Anyone he spent time with." Tony explains. "For fun. To have a good time."

Thor's brow furrows.

"… My brother has ever preferred study over frivolity…" he starts to say.

And again, Tony shakes his head.

"No, no Thor. You're missing the point. Did Loki have any actual _friends_?"

Thor's expression is blank.

"Uh huh." Tony goes on. "That's what I thought. I mean, did you ever see anyone visiting Loki when he'd lock himself up in his bedroom, or the library or whatever?"

"I would visit my brother often." Thor declares. "And I would on occasion bring with me the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif."

"You don't really count big guy." Tony counters. "I'm assuming those other guys you mentioned were _your_ friends?"

"They are my companions, yes." Thor nods.

"Did they ever visit Loki on their own?" Tony pushes. "Did they ever spend any time around him without you?"

Thor seems to think a moment, before slowly, he shakes his head, frowning.

"… No." He replies softly.

A moment passes, and then he says brightly.

"Our Mother, Frigga, she would visit Loki often. And on… on occasion, so would our Father." He pauses, brow furrowing. "Though Father would… it was a rare occasion, and most usually it seemed not of a personal nature. He would often seek Loki out for his advice on political matters."

Once more, Tony shakes his head.

"Well that's like you visiting him Thor. Family doesn't really count. I'm talking about outside you guys. I mean, okay, when Loki _did_ leave his room, did you ever see him _with_ anyone? Or did you ever see anyone going up to him and wanting to talk or whatever?"

Again, Thor's expression grows contemplative, and he thinks, his heart sinking as memories travel through his mind.

As he realizes he can't recall a single time he had seen Loki with even a single companion, let alone a group of such, as Thor often found himself with.

There was the intermittent maiden who would harass Loki after he had gotten through thoroughly charming them. But beyond that, no one…

Even during the regular and ceremonial feasts held at the palace, on the occasions Loki had deigned to join them, Thor remembers his brother always being seated by himself, away from the bustling of the guests, and no one ever addressing him, no one ever speaking to him.

He had… Thor had always assumed it was by Loki's own choice no one approached him. That he had wanted it that way.

Loki had never seemed bothered by it…

Never expressed unhappiness over it…

"_your brother is an incredible liar_…"

Thor's frown pulls more severe, remembering suddenly how it was always that Loki would excuse himself early, hours and hours before anyone else, retreating, eventually, back to his rooms. And nobody… nobody had ever protested… nobody had ever tried to stop him or convince him to stay…

Nobody had ever shown him they _wanted_ him to.

Thor falls silent, his eyes casting away.

And Tony leans forward, placing a hand along the thunder god's massive shoulder, patting him gently.

"Don't blame yourself Thor. Like I said, your brother's a hell of a liar. If he didn't want you to know something, I don't doubt you wouldn't know."

The billionaire's words seem to do little to quell Thor's obvious upset now though, and Tony sighs.

"Look, I've got an idea. Why don't we all go up to Loki's room right now and talk to him? Get him to come out maybe."

"My brother does not generally appreciate being disturbed." Thor says warily, glancing at Tony.

"But Thor, buddy, how's he supposed to know we want him around if we don't show him that?" Tony argues gently.

And Thor knows he's right.

He knows that.

And so he smiles, nodding, placing his own hand along Tony's shoulder.

"As you say, Anthony Stark." He answers. "Let us show my brother he is among friends."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31:**

Loki sits along the edge of the railing, and he thinks of his father…

Not his father…

He thinks of Odin.

He thinks constantly of Odin, and he pleads to the Norns to banish the thoughts from his head.

For he wishes not to think of him. He wishes not to be bound any longer by what he knows is a long dead and poisonous relationship. By memories false and hurting for their artifice.

He remembers Odin's smile. How often it had been turned upon Thor…

And how rare it was to be turned upon him…

But those times it had…

Oh, those times it had, and Loki had felt his heart fill near to bursting.

And for those few, fleeting moments afterwards he had been so _happy_. Oh _gods_, he had been…

He hates himself for the warmth he feels, recalling it.

Hates himself _longing_ for it.

It is a _lie_.

A pretty, pretty lie. The kind he's best at.

And he learned from the best. Didn't he?

Odin never loved him, and never will.

He knows that now.

All those _centuries_ spent, _wasted_ trying to win a love, to earn an approval and a pride which failed to ever exist…

Loki could curse himself for his own, sentimental stupidity. For ever seeking something false, for believing it was there, waiting for him, if he could only have done the _right thing_…

Just the right thing, and Odin would love him. He would. He _would_…

His head bows, and his eyes close against the orange cast of the setting sun, fingers curling over the steel lip, legs dangling, one hundred stories up.

There is a burning in his eyes, tightness in his throat…

_Sentimental fool_…

He will not make the mistake twice.

He will not ever seek to gain something impossible.

He will not let himself ever be so blinded by desperate hope again.

By longing desire…

And yet he hates himself worse…

He hates himself _worse_ for his own _lack_ of hate.

He wants with utter despair to _despise _Odin. He wants it with _suffering_.

But he thinks of him, he thinks of him constantly, and in his heart, he can feel no hatred at all.

Anger, contempt, bitterness, betrayal, indignation…

All of those things. But never _hate_.

He cannot hate his once-father.

And he cannot stop these traitorous emotions of warmth and belonging and _want _at the memories, his handful of memories when Odin was to him kind, and gentle.

Those so few instances when Odin turned his attention to his youngest son and showed in him _interest_.

So few, Loki can recall the number of times even, and each with distinct clarity. And he sometimes wonders if he hasn't just made them up at all. If he's truly lost his mind and conjured false memories to sooth the endless pit of emptiness he feels inside.

But he thinks not.

He thinks not.

They are too real. The feeling of them too much.

He's caught himself smiling at the memories.

Angry with himself for it.

Weak, weak, weak…

Weak for wanting it.

Weak for seeking comfort in it.

For sometimes wishing he were back home…

He shakes his head, eyes opening, lifting a hand to them and stamping dry the wetness, his face twisting in a snarl.

He _has_ no home.

"_You remember that Loki, son of no one_." He thinks bitterly.

And then his eyes narrow, turning his head sidelong.

And he knows Thor is there, with Stark, moving down the hallway towards his room.

He doesn't move, only turns his eyes back towards the sun, nearly disappeared now below the horizon.

And he thinks of Odin.

And of Asgard.

Of her three suns…

And he sees himself not there.

No place at the All-Father's side…

_Loki of no where_…

He has no home…

/

"The door is warded against entrance." Thor explains as Tony shakes his hand, cursing loudly and blowing against the burn along his palm. "You must knock and my brother will then decide whether or not to grant you passage."

The billionaire looks up, glaring at the thunder god.

"Ya know, you could've told me that _before _I reached for the knob, big guy."

Thor has the decency to look guilty.

"I apologize. I cannot sense magic the way Loki can, and it had slipped my mind…"

His voice trails off at the reproachful look Tony is giving him, and he smiles almost bashfully.

"If it is any consolation Anthony, I have made the same mistake numerous times."

"Oh, like it's the _same_ Thor. Aren't you, like, _invincible_ or something? Can your skin even _burn_?"

"Against my brother's magic?" The god questions, then laughs. "If Loki so desired, he could turn my flesh raw as the hide of a flayed bore."

Tony's mouth curls in disgust.

"Seriously?"

Thor nods, almost grimly.

"Indeed. Though he knows then I would bring the might of Mjolnir down upon his flimsy skull." He laughs loudly, and Tony can't help the unsettled chill which runs through him at the words.

"You guys sure have a funny way of expressing your brotherly love."

Once more, Thor laughs.

"I merely jest." He says. "I would never raise Mjolnir against Loki's head."

Tony doesn't look entirely convinced, and the amusement drains quickly from the thunder god's face.

He looks away, eyes seeming to go distant, and Tony watches him, suddenly taken by uncertainty.

"Thor?" He asks.

"… There was one time." He says suddenly, and his voice sounds too serious to Tony's ears. "When we were younger, and I had only just received Mjolnir." He pauses, his hand lifting and pushing back through his hair. "I had not yet understood the power of the hammer. Loki and I were sparring…"

Thor seems unable to look at Tony now, his voice growing softer. And Tony feels abruptly, distinctly uneasy, knowing already where this is headed.

"I hit him with it… across the temple… after hours of alluding me, and I did not… I did not think it a serious blow, but…"

Finally he glances up at Tony, and the shame is written all over his face.

"He nearly died." He says, strained and cracked, and Tony is sure he's fighting back tears at the memory. "I knew… when he did not get up, and then there was blood… so much blood and…"

He stops, turning away, wiping at his eyes.

"I would never lift Mjolnir against Loki again. I would not…"

_Loki steps back, just narrowly avoiding the swing of Thor's new, favorite weapon._

_He grins wildly, breathing hard as Thor stumbles, barely catching his footing._

_They're both tired. Though Loki is certain it's himself who bears the worst of it._

_They've been at it for hours, Thor trying over and over to hit his brother with the hammer, Loki skipping away and out of reach every time._

_He had teased Thor about it, the elder Prince having received Mjolnir from Odin only a week previous for his five hundredth name day, Loki telling him repeatedly he wasn't ready for such a weapon, that he scarcely understood its power and would most surely misuse it, if he were able to wield it at all._

_Thor had taken it as a challenge, promising Loki he would prove to him just how efficiently he could wield the hammer in a sparring match, to be held in the training rings the next afternoon._

_Loki had accepted without hesitation, and so here they were, a crowd gathered, cheering on Thor's every swing._

_Loki isn't above admitting he enjoys watching Thor miss with his clumsy attempts._

_But he grows wary now, and he hopes silently that soon his elder brother will stop and give up, accepting defeat, and hopefully learn a bit of humility in the process._

_It wouldn't hurt, Loki thinks, for Thor to realize he cannot simply have mastery over every weapon handed to him without _some_ practice._

_But Thor seems determined, letting out a feral roar as, again, he swings the hammer down, and again, Loki steps back, nearly stumbling this time as the force from the blow disrupts the air, close enough for Loki to feel it against his face._

"_You are overly aggressive brother. That is where your error lies." Loki chastises, and again, Thor swings, clearly enraged._

_Loki ducks under it, but it's suddenly his heart isn't in the competition any more, and he grows distinctly unsettled at the expression across the elder gods face, by the anger and determination he sees there._

_He realizes to Thor it's no longer a game. That he is serious in his attempts to catch him._

_And whatever pride he's been holding to, he lets it go. _

_He doesn't want to engage Thor when he gets like this._

"_Perhaps we should call a truce." He says, stepping back, holding his hands up playcatingly. _

_Thor just scoffs, stepping towards him, Mjolnir held in a white knuckled grip and held aloft._

"_Why brother? Do not tell me you are losing your nerve."_

"_It is not that." Loki lies smoothly. "I simply see no point in our continued contest. You clearly are in need of more practice. It is nothing to be ashamed of Thor. Even our greatest warriors required their skills to be honed."_

_Thor's face darkens further, and Loki realizes then he's miscalculated. He should have known better then to belittle Thor's pride by suggesting him less than perfect in his warriors skill._

"_I need no such practice to handle the likes of you Loki." He says, again stepping closer. "And you are one to talk. You, who neglects your training for dusty old tomes and long forgotten books. You would do well to heed your own advice brother, lest you fall shorter still against the rest of us. You already are so woefully incompetent a warrior."_

_Loki feels his whole frame tighten, swallowing thickly, anger blooming inside his chest at Thor's words._

_Hurt…_

_His voice feels trapped in his throat suddenly, and he needs to swallow again before he can speak._

"_I do not wish to continue Thor." He says, measured and slow, trying hard to keep the tremble unheard. "Let us declare a draw and forget the entire thing."_

"_No!" Thor snaps, and Loki can't keep himself from flinching back. "You have been running from me all afternoon, like some damnable coward. And I will not rest until I have accomplished what I set out to do. I do not _quit_, Loki."_

_And at once, Thor is charging at him, hammer held high, a snarl ripping from his throat._

_Loki has only a moment for his eyes to go wide before he is reeling backwards, barely escaping the blow._

_And this time the younger Prince does lose his footing, taken by surprise, and he falls to the dirt against his back, a loud 'ooff" escaping his lips._

_Thor turns, face set in determination, and he swings Mjolnir down, aiming straight for Loki's chest._

_Loki just manages to roll out of the way, the hammer cracking against the spot he had just lain in moments ago._

_He scrambles backwards along his bottom, eyes huge as he takes in Thor's advancement._

"_THOR!" He cries, truly frightened now. "Stop it!"_

_But Thor isn't listening, swinging again, Loki hardly avoiding the hit by falling down, onto his back again._

_He rolls, turning panicked to face his brother once more._

_There is the gaze of the berserker in Thor's eyes, and Loki feels his mouth go dry._

"_Thor, you do not understand the danger! Mjolnir is no toy…"_

_He's cut off with another swing, once more scrambling away._

_He tries rising to his feet, having every intention to run._

_He doesn't give a damn if they call him a coward. They all call him such anyway._

_If Thor gives chase, he may even try out the transporting spell he's been working on, just to get away and give Thor time to calm down. To realize what he's…_

_His thoughts are scattered to nothing, and there is pain unlike any he's ever felt before, exploding through his skull._

_His vision goes blind with an eruption of white, ears hissing with the sound of loud ringing. He can hear nothing else._

_And then there is the sensation of warmth, pooling down the side of his face, the stench of copper, heavy filling his noise, and the world spins, too fast for him to understand._

_It seems the ground rushes up to meet him._

_The sky jarring and spinning overhead._

_And then the world goes dark._

_And he knows nothing any more._

"I had realized immediately my folly the moment I made contact." Thor says, and there is so much regret in his voice, Tony can hardly stand it. "He fell like a sack of stones and I remember… I remember his head… it seemed his skull had been caved in from the side and…"

His voice cracks, thick with tears as he lifts his hand, wiping uselessly at his eyes.

"I was at his side in an instant, lifting him up and holding him against me. I still… I still recall how limp he had felt in my arms. I had never… never before felt terror like I did in that moment. The blood… there was blood weeping in such great quantity from where Mjolnir had struck him, and I remember glancing down and seeing…"

Thor seems to blanch at the memory.

"I was able to see bone through where his skin had split clear open and been flayed off. I have never felt so ill in my life, Anthony." He dares to gaze at the billionaire. "I was certain I had killed him. And I recall screaming for help, for someone to fetch our Father."

Tony swallows, trying to digest it all.

"Jesus Thor, what… I mean, what happened?" He finally is able to ask.

"Loki was taken to the healers, and remained there nearly two weeks, unconscious. I scarcely left his side a moment in that time, fearful he would die. Father had been… he had been furious, rightfully so. As had Mother. I remember he took Mjolnir from me and forbid my claim to it for another year after that. I think… I think perhaps he was too lenient even."

"Christ Thor, that's… that's messed up."

Thor nods grimly.

"I have never forgiven myself for it. My pride was a dangerous flaw in those days. If not for Loki's strength…"

He pauses, shaking his head.

"Anyone of lesser will surely would have perished from the blow I landed that day."

"… So," Tony begins slowly. He swears, if Thor look any more guilty, he's going to start crying himself. "Loki must've been pretty pissed at you when he finally woke up."

_Understatement of the century, genius_, he thinks to himself.

"He would not speak to me for a week." Thor says, confirming. "I begged his forgiveness, and eventually he gave it. I knew when he came to the feasting hall finally and sat beside me, several days after being released from the healing rooms. I sometimes still wonder how he found it in his heart to do so."

"… Well, big guy, that's what you call love." Tony says, reaching out a hand, resting it reassuringly on the thunder god's shoulder. "He loves you, that's how."

And the smile which spreads across Thor's face then is almost blinding in its brightness.

He reaches back, taking hold of Tony's arm.

"Thank you my friend." He says softly, sincerely. "I cannot express to you what your words mean."

Tony smiles back at him a moment, before waving him off.

"Alright, alright, enough with the feels." He says distractedly, turning back to the door. "Who's gonna knock? You are, right? I don't wanna touch the thing again."

Thor grins.

"Of course Anthony!" He says, smacking Tony across the back, nearly hard enough to knock him off his feet.

"Ow! Hey!" Tony hisses. "Not so rough Thor!"

Thor frowns.

"I am sorry." He says. "It escapes my mind often you mortals are not as sturdily built as we."

"Yeah, well…" Tony huffs. "just knock so we can drag your little bro out here and commence with the familial bonding."

Thor nods, a moment later reaching out, knocking softly against the door.

"Uh… you think he'll hear that?" Tony asks, looking up at the thunder god, confused.

"He knows already that we are here." He answers.

"He…?"

A moment later, and the door shifts suddenly open, stopping at only a crack.

"He allows us entry." Thor smiles broadly, gesturing forward. "You may go first Anthony."

Tony glances at him, unsure, mildly confused by the whole thing, before finally he shrugs, stepping forward, pushing the door open the rest of the way.

He expects to see Loki, brooding in a corner or at the single work desk in the room. But taking a quick glance around, and it appears the place is entirely empty.

And then his eyes move to the window, feeling the chill from the outside night air, and an irrational knot of fear drops down through his stomach.

There's no balcony outside this room, and they're _high_ up.

"Uh, Thor…" he nudges the thunder god as he steps into the room after him, pointing towards the open widow. "Loki wouldn't… I mean, he didn't…" he swallows, finding himself unable to form the words he's thinking.

He doesn't even think a hundred story drop would kill Loki. In fact, he's pretty damn certain the worst it would do to him is maybe bruise him up bad. But still, the thought of _anyone _falling from that height…

But Thor seems entirely unconcerned as he makes for the window, and Tony watches wide eyed as the god leans out over the edge, angling his head to look up.

"Ho there, little brother!" He calls, looking somewhere above him, his voice jolly. "Anthony and I have come seeking your company. Will you not join us within?"

Tony hears a faint mummer, which he assumes is Loki's response, though it's too soft for him to make out the words.

Cautiously, he makes his way towards the window.

"What, he's actually…?"

There's barely enough room for Tony to squeeze past Thor and look out through the window himself, turning to glance up.

Maybe two floors above them, he sees Loki, legs dangling off the edge of a balcony railing, adjacent to another room in the tower. He's staring down at them, his green eyes seeming almost fluorescent in the dark, unusually bright against his too pale skin, and Tony is hit suddenly with an extreme bout of vertigo.

He pulls back, sucking in a breath.

"Jeeze…" he mutters to himself.

He guesses Loki's not scared of heights, then.

Thor pulls back after a moment, looking down at him with a wide smile.

"He wishes us to join him outside." He announces.

Tony gapes at him.

"Uh, maybe if I had my suite right now." He replies. "Otherwise, you know, I'm not too comfortable with the idea of dangling off a balcony railing a hundred plus stories off the ground."

Thor's brow furrows in thought, a vague frown pulling at his lips.

"We would not let you fall Anthony. And besides, you can sit within the railing, if it would make you more comfortable." He offers.

"Right," Tony gives him a look of incredulousness. "and how exactly am I supposed to get up there without…"

He doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence as Thor suddenly has him around the waist, pulling him tight against him, pulling his hammer from his belt, and in an instant they are jumping through the window.

It takes every ounce of Tony's will power not to scream like a girl, his stomach dropping like a stone before he realizes belatedly that they are not, in fact, falling.

Right, Thor's hammer can fly. He knew that. He totally knew that.

Within moments, they are up to the balcony, Thor depositing Tony with surprising gentility behind the railing, feet planted firm and safe on the ground as he settles along the railing beside his brother.

The billionaire glances up to find Loki looking down at him, an all too apparent smirk tugging at his lips.

"You fear heights." He states.

Tony scoffs, pinning the god with his most incredulous glare.

"What makes you think that?" He asks hotly.

And Loki's smirk broadens.

"You grip the rail as though fearful of losing your footing." He nods towards Tony's white-knuckled hold along the rail.

Tony glances down, frowning. He hadn't even realized.

"And you tremble, though minutely. A sure sign of your unease." Loki goes on, voice sounding unbearably smug. A light laugh escapes his lips. "Who would ever have considered such a notion? The heralded Man of Iron, gleaming across the night sky in all his resplendent and shining glory, as like a blazing comet through the encroaching darkness, cutting the cold blackness with the heat of radiant light… _afraid _of heights."

He laughs again, more fully.

And Tony has the sudden urge to knock the little shit off the side of the railing and see how he likes the hundred story drop. See who's scared of heights _then_.

He keeps forgetting how _old_ Loki is.

He looks like a boy.

Like some rebellious kid, laughing at authority.

It's hard not to think of himself as the adult in the situation, to keep from talking to the god like he's some snot nosed little brat.

Of course, the moment Loki opens his mouth, any impression of him being a child evaporates into thin air.

Tony considers himself pretty witty and smart with the quips.

But he has no desire to trade barbs with this guy.

Not even…

So he brushes it off, and changes the subject.

"Whatever. _You_…" he points at Loki purposefully, voice commanding, and has to repress a smile at the surprised amusement which dances across the gods features.

_Silly, arrogant little mortal_ it says. But there is no malice or ill-will in the expression, and of that, Tony is silently grateful.

He's pretty sure he amuses the trickster, in the least, and that's better than being on his shit list, the billionaire's sure.

"are spending far too much time in your room. And, apparently, brooding along high up balconies, and not enough time gallivanting with us merry men. Nat's a man, don't be fooled by her womanly roundness… And don't tell her I said that either. Yeah. Don't tell her."

Loki's amused expression had begun gradually to fall as he realized their intent.

He looks away, back out over the city.

"I prefer the air here." He states plainly. "It is purer than at the level of your roads. This Realm is so filled with congestion and filth…" he trails off.

Before Tony can say anything, or Loki can further deride the planet, Thor slings a giant arm round his shoulders.

"We wish for you to join us for an evening of entertainment brother!" He says happily.

Immediately, Loki begins shaking his head, taking hold of the elder gods arm and pushing it from him.

"No, Thor." He replies. "I am perfectly content where I am. Do not attempt to persuade me."

"Aww, come on Lokes!" Tony interjects suddenly. "We were thinking movie night! Thor told us how much you like movies!"

Loki's eyes narrow, glancing back down at the billionaire, suspicion clear in his eyes.

Tony can see him searching for the lie, for the deceit, and he feels suddenly, inexplicably guilty.

That he would assume immediately a request for his company had to be some sort of trick or lie… it only further confirms what he'd earlier theorized.

Loki didn't think anyone wanted him around…

"Seriously Loki, we want you to come and watch a movie with us, or just hang out. Whatever you want to do." He says.

And Tony almost grins, because he can see the trickster god's expression shift, finding no falsity in the request, and now he's actually considering it.

"You like fantasy? I'll bet you like fantasy, right?"

"Fantasy?" Loki questions.

"Yeah. You know, wizards and magic and goblins. Lord of the Rings?"

Loki's face twists in seeming disgust then.

"I have had the misfortune of viewing a portion of this _Lord of the Rings_." He says, his voice thick with disapproval. "Your Midgardian's idea of Elves and Orcs and Dwarves is so inaccurate as to be laughable. I do not know what a "hobbit" is, but there is no such creature I know of in all the Nine. And your concepts of Wizards and magic merit not even a response. I could bear only a quarter of the moving picture before my distaste over its mockery forced me to end it. If you attempt to force the obscenity upon me again, I will…"

"Alright, alright!" Tony held his hands up in surrender. "Never mind. It was just a suggestion."

Loki's narrow eyed expression failed to lessen, still glaring back.

Tony swallows thickly.

He doesn't even want to think about the fact that Loki more than just implied the actual existence of Orcs and Dwarves and whatever the hell else. He remembers the god saying something about them being vulnerable to Elvish and Dwarven steel, but he hadn't really thought about it at the time.

"Look, I've got just about every kind of movie you can imagine. So how about if we let you choose? Would you be willing to come out of your room then? Hang out with us lowly mortals for a while?"

Loki regards him a long moment, head cocked slightly, expression unchanging.

Until finally he straightens, turning away and casting his eyes back out over the city.

"Do you possess any French films?" He asks quietly.

Tony's brow furrows.

"French? You mean, like, with _subtitles_?"

Loki looks back down at him, forehead lined in questioning.

"… Subtitles?"

Tony frowns slightly.

"Seriously? Do I have to explain _everything _to…"

He stops short, seeing the displeasure shift across the gods face.

"Right. Forget it." He goes on. "French films. I… guess I have some. If you're really into all that art house crap."

"Then perhaps I shall accompany you." Loki says, and Thor lets out a triumphant holler.

"That is most excellent news brother!" Again he throws his arm around Loki, pulling him tight.

In the next instant, the trickster god vanishes, leaving Thor and Tony to themselves.

It's Tony who ends up suggesting they take the elevator down to the lounge.

To his relief, Thor happily agrees.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32:**

_Loki trails behind Thor, despite his older brother holding onto his hand. _

_His pace is fast, and Loki's legs are too short to keep stride with him._

_They go on for a while like this, Thor not slowing down, until they've broken from the city surrounding the palace and into a thick field of wheat. _

_Loki hesitates then, reaching out with his other hand and grasping Thor's wrist, trying to pull back on him._

"_Th-Thor?" He calls, his voice small and almost soundless._

_Still, Thor hears him, having long grown accustomed to his soft-spoken little brother, ever vigilant to his voice which so often gets lost among his louder, boisterous friends and all of the adults._

_He stops, turning and looking down at him, smiling as Loki looks up at him with wide, unsure eyes._

"_What is it Loki?" He asks._

_Loki swallows, gazing at him a moment longer before glancing nervously back towards the palace, his eyes then shifting to the ground, and he mutters quietly…_

"_Shouldn't… sh-shouldn't we go back?" He asks timidly._

_Thor frowns, brow furrowing._

"_No, of course not Loki." He answers, as though the question is silly. "We haven't yet reached our destination."_

_Loki bites his lip and is, for a moment, silent._

_And then he says, voice softer still…_

"_But… but Father says… he says I'm not allowed this far from the palace grounds. He says I could get hurt…"_

"_You aren't allowed this far from the palace _alone_ Loki." Thor says. "But I'm with you now, and you know I would never let anything harm you."_

_Loki says nothing to that, eyes still fixed on the ground, his tiny hand gripping tighter round the elder Prince's._

_Thor reaches out, ruffling Loki's hair. It's been growing out lately, and is to his shoulders now._

_Thor thinks there's something incredibly pretty about his little brother. He's so small and fragile, like one of Mother's flowers from her garden. All pale skin and dark hair. He doesn't look like anyone else._

"_Loki," he begins, voice gentle._

_And finally, Loki looks back up at him._

_He has to tilt his head almost all the way back just to see Thor's face, the elder Prince being nearly a full one of his own body lengths taller than him._

_Thor's smile broadens._

"_I would never let anything hurt you." He repeats. "You know this, yes? I will always be there to protect you and keep you safe."_

_For a long moment, Loki is silent, staring up at Thor. And then he's pressing his face against Thor's leg, burrowing against him, and Thor hears him say, voice muffled…_

"_I'm scared…"_

_And Thor reaches, putting his arm around Loki's thin shoulders, holding him close._

"_Don't be scared Loki." He says. "I _promise_ I won't ever let anything bad happen to you."_

_And finally, Loki nods, face still pressed against the elder god's leg._

_A long moment passes by._

"_Thor?" He asks after a while._

_And Thor gives him the time to continue._

_Again Loki glances up at him._

"_When I come of… when I come of age, I want to be just like you." He says. "I want to be a strong and brave warrior like you."_

_Thor smiles._

"_And so you shall be little brother." He assures._

_Loki looks unsure._

"… _That's not what the others say." He whispers, looking away._

_Thor frowns._

"_What others?" He asks._

_Once more, Loki swallows hard, his cheeks flushing slightly._

"_The other children." He answers. "They… they say I'm too small and f-frail… they say I won't ever be strong enough to… to be a true warrior of the Aesir._

_Thor's frown deepens._

"_Well, they're wrong." He declares confidently._

_Loki looks up at him, hope in his eyes._

"_You'll be one of the best warrior's Asgard's ever known!" The elder Prince goes on, grinning. _

"… _Really?" Loki questions, uncertain._

_And Thor nods._

"_I know it." He says._

_And finally, a smile breaks out across Loki's face, his arms coming around the elder god's waist, hugging him tight._

_Thor's smile widens, hugging Loki back, and for a long while, they stay like that, holding on to each other._

_Until the elder Prince pulls away, looking down at his brother._

"_Come on," he starts. "how about if I carry you the rest of the way?"_

"_On your shoulders, so I can be tall like you?" Loki asks hopefully._

_And Thor nods, a moment later reaching down, taking Loki underneath his arms and lifting his light frame up easily above his head._

_Loki laughs happily as the elder Prince lowers him onto his shoulders, thin arms coming round to wrap loose and familiar around Thor's neck._

_Thor holds on to Loki's legs, keeping him secure._

"_You ready brother?" He asks, glancing up at him._

_Loki's smile is wide as he nods excitedly._

_And Thor carries him without real effort the rest of the way, through the field, and farther out, over the crest of a looming hill, where at last, he comes to a stop, standing and staring out at the landscape surrounding the city._

"_Look Loki," he says. "You see the great forests and mountains?"_

"_Yes." Loki replies softly, voice filled with wonder._

_Thor smiles._

_Loki is endlessly curious, already able to read and write well beyond what is typical for his years, to grasp complex theories of math and magic and science normally understood only by adults. He is constantly wanting to learn, to absorb his surroundings and dissect. _

"_Someday," Thor begins to explain. "Father will take us there and teach us how to hunt. And then it will be you and I who provide the great feasting hall with its banquets, and we will tell of our conquests like Tyr and his men do now." _

_He hears Loki breathe out in awe._

"… _You think Father will let me join?" He asks, longing in his voice._

"_Of course!" Thor replies without hesitation._

_There is a pause, and then…_

"… _Do you think I will be strong enough?"_

_Finally Thor glances up at his brother, a vague frown tugging his lips._

_Loki is still looking out over the surrounding trees and mountains, seeming almost entranced._

"… _Why do you ask such things brother?" Thor asks after a moment. "You are a son of Odin, and so by right, you will be granted the privilege of learning the art of the hunt. Your strength will have no bearing on that."_

_Loki's face seems to fall with the words, his own frown casting over it._

"_Would I not be undeserving of the privilege if my presence were to impede the success of the hunting party?" He asks, glancing down at his older brother._

_Thor reaches up, taking Loki under the arms again and lifting him off, placing him gently on the ground before him._

"_Loki," he begins, kneeling down to look him in the face. "how do you get such silly notions into your head?" _

_Loki's eyes cast to the ground, seeming ashamed, his hands coming together and beginning to fidget. _

"_Loki?"_

"… _The other children say…" he starts, almost too softly to hear. "I hear them say s-sometimes I get sick too often and… and if I don't grow stronger, Father won't take me on the hunts because I'll only slow everyone down and ruin it and…"_

"_Loki, do not listen to those others." Thor cuts him short. "They know nothing of what Father thinks or what he will do. Even if you don't grow stronger, you will still be included. It is your right, as Prince of Asgard."_

"_But I do not want to ruin it for everyone Thor!" Loki says, voice abruptly panicked. "I should only deserve to accompany Father if I grow strong like you!"_

"_And you will Loki." Thor tries, seeing his brother beginning to fall to anxiety like he has a tendency to do. Mother has told Thor whenever this happens that he must do all he can to calm Loki down, lest he make himself sick, or accidentally release some uncontrolled blast of magical energy. Mother has explained how dangerous that can be, both to Loki and those around him. _

"_But if I don't…" Loki begins, voice wavering._

"_You will Loki." Thor says, taking him into a hug. "I promise you will."_

Thor's eyes fix intently on him, the younger god's head leaned lazily against his broad shoulder, eyes closed, breath even and steady, chest rising and falling in rhythm with it.

Thor can scarcely believe his own eyes.

He hadn't even noticed until the moving picture had ended, the screen going dark and Tony having turned the playing device off.

Loki had actually fallen _asleep_.

Against him, and surrounded by… all the rest of them.

"Is he… sleeping?" Natasha is the first to notice, drawing the attention of the rest of the team, their eyes going collectively wide at the sight.

Thor nods absently, still looking down at Loki.

"Whoa…" Steve breaths, keeping his voice soft, as astonished as the rest of them.

None of them had ever thought Loki would be able to relax around any of them enough for something like _this_ to happen.

Then again, none of them had actually expected Tony and Thor to succeed in convincing Loki down from his room.

He and the thunder god had ended up on one half of the couch, Tony and Natasha on the other end, Bruce and Steve seated respectively in the two surrounding recliners.

There'd been a collective groan when Tony had explained that Loki would be choosing the film that night, and he'd selected some obscure, comatose inducing French title.

Loki hadn't seemed to care at all, simply smiling at the reaction.

Ten minutes in, and everyone was positively glued to the screen, completely invested.

And that taught them all the lesson of not judging a book by its cover.

When Loki had fallen asleep, none of them knew. They'd been too engrossed by the film to even notice.

"I didn't even _know_ he slept." Bruce muses aloud.

"He does not often." Thor replies, voice astonishingly quiet. "He… has difficulty doing so most usually."

Tony is staring intently at Loki's unconscious form, almost transfixed.

If possible, the trickster god looks even _younger_ like this, and, strangely, _vulnerable_.

With all of the tension and calculating expression gone from his features, completely relaxed and limp like he is… he looks even like a completely different _thing_.

More like a little boy than a _god_.

Tony is reminded again, despite his great height, of how actually _small _Loki is, and for some reason, it unnerves him.

Maybe it is just beside Thor it looks so pronounced.

But someone that powerful should never look that… susceptible.

"We should bring him back to his room." Natasha supplies suddenly.

Thor nods wordlessly.

"He has not slept in several weeks, as well as I know." He says. "We would do best not to wake him."

"Maybe you should just take him then Thor?" Bruce whispers.

And again Thor nods, a moment later everyone watching as the thunder god moves away cautiously, cradling Loki's head along his palm as he turns towards him, carefully then lowering him down to the couch and working his arms beneath his back and legs.

In one, gentle movement, he lifts the smaller god up as though weightless, all of them holding their breath, waiting for the moment Loki wakes and blows his fuse.

But Loki doesn't stir, falling limp and pliable as Thor holds him against his chest, supporting him along the back of his head, resting his cheek along his shoulder to keep him from falling back.

It's… bizarre.

Everyone is staring, but Tony is suddenly overtaken by the thought to look away. Like he's encroaching on something private and intimate and beyond their right to see; to even _understand_.

He's reminded abruptly of just who these two are, how long they've _lived_ for, the length of their lives _together_.

How the amount of what they've shared and experienced and seen together is, for all the rest of them, something incomprehensible.

What kind of bond that must form, to have been with someone for over five millennia.

Thor looks to each of them, smiling softly.

"Goodnight then, my friends." He says quietly. "Until the morrow."

They each murmur their own goodnights, voices disjointed and out of time with one another, watching silent then as Thor turns, carrying Loki from the room like he would a child, disappearing through the lounges entrance and down the hall.

They all wait nearly a minute.

And then they erupt into astonished conversation.

/

He lays Loki as gently as he can along the bed, mindful of waking him.

He forgets often just how light his brother is.

How light he's _always_ been.

How it always seemed there was such little physical substance to him.

Like he could just fade away to nothing, and slip right through Thor's fingers.

Thor had used to fear _breaking_ him when they were children.

He supposes it sounds silly now, remembering the way his mind would literally form images of Loki, sitting broken apart like glass in his too rough hands.

He thinks the thoughts must have started working in his head from those times, before he understood just how fragile his brother was, when he would play with Loki the same as he would any of his other friends, and always, always, Loki wound up hurt in some way. Badly bruised or with his then brittle bones fractured.

Thor recalls how he'd nearly lost his mind, sobbing uncontrollably the first time he'd caused Loki to fall and his little brother hadn't gotten up. When he'd lain there limp and unmoving, and Thor had been _certain _then he'd killed him.

But Loki was so much tougher than anyone had ever given him credit for, and he'd woken up a few minutes later, a little dizzy and bruised. But he'd only cried a little before pushing himself to his feet and smiling, telling Thor it was alright, that he was alright and that Thor shouldn't blame himself.

And then he'd promised to do better next time, and not get so easily hurt, and later that night, Thor had wound up crying himself to sleep, thinking about Loki, about how small and weak he was, and how brave. Certain that someday, in his clumsiness and thoughtlessness, he would end up killing the brother he had sworn to protect…

He looks down at Loki now, and he thinks about how very much his brother has changed… and how, in some ways, he doesn't seem to have changed at all.

Reaching down, he brushes a lock of hair back off Loki's face.

He had sheared it near all off a few months ago, and it was only just now starting to grow longer.

He stills as Loki stirs slightly, turning over on his side, a near silent breath escaping from between his lips.

And Thor thinks he should best leave, and allow Loki his rest.

He isn't sure how well his brother will respond when he realizes he fell asleep surrounded by the others.

Despite Thor trusting his shield companions implicitly, and being there himself to protect Loki, he knows that to ever be left in any kind of vulnerable position is, to his brother, the worst thing.

He will likely be angry with himself for allowing it to happen.

Thor hopes not. But it seems likely.

He is just beginning then to stand, to leave his brother in peace, when he halts, hearing the barely spoken word which slips from Loki's throat, almost a soundless whisper…

"… No."

Thor stares at him a long moment, the idea briefly passing through his head that Loki is actually awake, and has just told him to stay.

But as the seconds move on, it becomes clear the younger god is unconscious still, and it is only an instant after Thor realizes he is dreaming, watching his features pull into an almost pained expression, brow furrowing slightly and lips tugging into a vague frown.

Again, he speaks, voice small, an almost imperceptible tremor running through it.

"No, please…"

And Thor feels his stomach knot hard.

… Begging.

It sounds not right, to hear Loki beg.

And the feeling of anxiety turns to sickness as he hears just barely the soft whimper which emits then past Loki's lips, watches as the younger god curls in on himself, hands reaching blindly towards his own head, long, thin fingers burying deep in his hair and _pulling_.

"Stop…" he cries, voice now broken and thick with tears. "please, oh gods, stop… stop…"

Thor feels himself tense, uncertainty wrapping like a vice around him.

He has the great urge to reach out and shake Loki awake, to pull him from whatever torment his mind is now creating for him.

But he still remembers the one time he made so foolish a mistake; can still feel the physical agony of the blast of magic Loki had struck him with upon being jarred from his nightmare. How it had taken him nearly a full day to recover.

Worse still, he remembers Loki's horror at what he had done, and how lowly he had spoken of himself for nearly two weeks following the incident.

Thor didn't want to hear Loki talk about himself that way ever again…

And so he bites his lip, and watches in silent desperation as Loki writhes about the bed, face pulled in some unknown and terrible fear, choking out despaired and broken pleas of mercy, keening with such hopelessness that Thor feels as though his heart will wither and die with it.

He cannot bear to see Loki suffer so.

By the Norns, what has been done to his brother? His little brother. What tortures has he been subjected to which he can never speak of?

Which terrorize him in slumber like this?

Without respite.

And the thunderer cannot help the wash of tears which film over his eyes as he listens, and Loki is suddenly calling out for him, sounding so much like the little boy he had grown up with. Lost and alone and so, so scared…

"Thor…" he sobs, a wrecked whisper. "Thor? Please… please…"

At once, he is reaching, blindly and fevered out at open and empty air, and Thor can see in the dark the wetness down his cheeks.

"Thor, please…" he weeps. "help me… please help me…"

And Thor does.

He cares not anymore if he himself is hurt… what happens…

His brother needs his help… he needs it.

He will not let him suffer this anymore.

Reaching out, he grasps Loki's hands, gripping them tight, stilling his flailing arms, calling out his name.

"Loki!" He says firmly. "_Loki_!"

Loki continues to struggle, pulling weakly at Thor's hold, still crying and pleading desperately for his older brother.

"LOKI!"

And the trickster god's eyes snap open, wide and panicked and lost.

They find Thor, staring up at him in dazed confusion a long moment, blinking rapidly, tears thick and streaming down his face.

Thor stares back at him, brow furrowed deep in concern, frowning. He still holds to Loki's hands, his grip looser now, more gentle.

And he sees Loki breathes erratically, a labored and uneven rise and fall of his thin chest.

"You are safe Loki…" the thunder god at last whisper. "you are safe."

Loki keeps looking at him like he doesn't know where he is, like he's unsure of who he's seeing even.

For a moment, Thor feels a shot of fear that maybe his brother doesn't recognize him.

But then a spark of familiarity shines in his bright eyes, and he swallows with seeming difficulty, exhaling loudly and shakily.

Thor feels him trembling viciously as he whispers out…

"… Thor?"

And the elder Prince nods, forcing himself to smile.

"I am here brother." He says softly. "You are safe."

He can barely stand it, how confused Loki looks. How uncertain.

Loki, who he's always relied on to know what to do, to understand everything and think they're way out of any problem.

He doesn't know what to do when Loki is lost like this.

He doesn't know.

And suddenly Loki is scrambling, trying to sit up almost frantically.

"Thor…" he breathes, and his voice is laced with desperation. "Thor, please…"

Thor lets his hands go, and at once, Loki is reaching out, grasping the larger gods shoulders, staring at him with unnerving intensity.

"Please, we have to…" he entreats softly, voice shaking with him. "we have to leave this place. We must go now…"

"Loki, what do you speak of? What do you mean?" Thor asks, holding him back, pushing down his stunned uncertainty.

"Please Thor," Loki continues to beg as though he hasn't heard him. "please. He will come for me. He will…"

"Loki, it was only a dream. It is alright. You are safe here." Thor tries to calm him.

Loki shakes his head, eyes wide and bright in the dark of the room, filled with a kind of disturbing certainty now.

He wipes viciously at his face, drying the tears from his cheeks.

"No… no. He is coming. He is coming for me. I can… I can sense his presence near."

"_Who_ Loki?" Thor frowns, growing more confused. "Father?"

Again, Loki's head shakes.

"No… no…"

He breathes in sharply, gaze never leaving the thunder gods face.

And then Thor sees it.

The _fear_ in Loki's eyes.

And he hears him say, broken and nearly too soft to make out…

"Thanos… Thanos is coming for me."

/

**AN: As always, thank you so much for all the reviews and readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and would love to hear from you on it!**

**This story is winding down and nearly at its conclusion folks. I'm weighing whether or not to go for a sequel, but I don't have any real ideas at the moment, so if you have an idea of something you'd like to see, shoot me a PM and let me know!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33:**

"_Loki…"_

…

"_Loki, son on no one…"_

_He starts awake, eyes panicked and wide, a gasped breath drawing in past his cracked and broken lips._

_The pain hits him, drowning him, a haggard and only half stifled sob escaping as he presses his face to the cold and unforgiving ground, turning away._

"_Loki…"_

_His arms curl beneath him, fists tight against his naked chest, pressing in._

_Please, please, please…_

"_please__…"_

"_Little godling…" _

_The voice is almost soothing now, closer, beside his ear._

_He feels fingers pushing through his hair, gentle and mocking._

"_please__…" he whimpers._

"_You plead with me now?" The voice asks. "You beg?"_

_And Loki nods, curling tighter._

"_What of your indignation, little godling? What of the resistance which you have clung to for so long? Which you have worn with such foolish pride?"_

_Loki says nothing, eyes squeezing shut against the already pitch blackness, hot tears pushing past, smearing down his dirtied face._

_And the fingers through his hair suddenly tighten, ripping, and Loki cries out as he's torn brutally from the ground and lifted as though he weighs nothing, slammed back against a wall of pure rock, the breath ripped from his lungs._

_Hands powerful… so powerful, capture his wrists, pressing them down above his head, stretching him out and exposed and helpless…_

Weak… you are weak Loki, son of no one. Loki of no place. You are unwanted…

_He keeps his head bowed, eyes away._

_Don't look, don't look, don't look…_

"_Look at me, boy."_

_Eyes closed, tears slipped down his cheeks._

"_Look at me…"_

_And his head lifts, lids opening._

_Thanos smiles back at him, and there is only cruelty in it._

_He laughs lowly._

"_You… look at you, child." He says. "You, so defiant. So strong willed and rebellious. Stripped bare and helpless, stripped of all delusion of power."_

_Tears grow thick now, blinding in his eyes, and he wants to look away. He wants to so much…_

_The grip around his wrists tightens, crushing and painful, and it takes what little strength he has left not to sob._

_Thanos leans close, and Loki can feel the heat of his breath against his face, and he feels small…_

"_Do you know how alone you are, Loki?" The Titan asks. "Do you understand how alone you are?"_

_And Loki can't answer._

_He can't answer, because he does know._

_He's always known, deep down. He's always understood…_

"_There is no one coming for you Loki. No rescue. No attempt to find you even. No one cares." Thanos leans closer still, until his lips are beside the god's ear. "No one _cares _for you." He whispers._

_And Loki knows it's true. He knows it._

_And whatever was left of him… whatever was left, it goes, and he crumples, legs slackening beneath him, held up now only by the Titans grip, by his pinning his arms above him to the wall._

_He doesn't struggle._

_There is no point._

_Never was any point…_

_He's going to die here._

_He's going to die, as he'd thought he would in the void._

_Instead here, on a barren and desolate rock, surrounded by monsters more hideous than he._

_Surrounded… _

_Alone…_

_Why then so alone? Why does is press in on him more forcefully than when he floated through nothingness in space?_

_Why is it felt so acutely now?_

_He wishes he'd died in the void…_

_Oh, how he wishes…_

_But he will die here._

_And he accepts that now._

_He accepts that…_

_Because nobody will come for him._

_Nobody cares…_

_And his own silver tongue has failed him._

_His magic has failed him._

_His strength…_

_He never had any, true strength…_

"_Are you ready to cooperate now, little god?" The Titan breaths against him. "Are you ready to do as I tell you?"_

_He released one of Loki's wrists, his hand coming forward, thick fingers and wide palm cupping against his hollowed cheek._

_Caressing gently…_

"_It is so very simple, Loki." He goes on quietly, softly. _

_Voice soothing. _

"_You need only retrieve for us the Tesseract. We need your power boy. Your understanding of the pathways between the great trees branches. You can navigate them child. You can wield the cubes power well. I understand your brilliance Loki. _I _understand better than anyone. Value it. And in return? Your freedom, and a Kingdom to rule as your own. Power beyond your wildest dreams. You need only do this small favor."_

… _Do as I tell you…_

_Do as you're told…_

_Know your place._

_Know your place brother…_

_What happened? That silver tongue of yours turn to lead?_

_Treason… betrayal… _

_Betrayed…_

_King of Asgard…_

_King of nothing._

_King of no one._

_No, Loki._

_No…_

_No…_

_No…_

_His eyes lift, staring._

_Thanos grins at him._

_And Loki's features twist in fury._

_He spits into the mad Titans face._

"_I am… sl-slave… slave to no one." The god labors out. "I am… I am th… the son… the son of Odin. I will… w-will not… will not do as you s-say…"_

_And Thanos' face turns to pure rage._

"_Insolent _whelp_!" He roars, fingers at once tightening, gripping as a vice round Loki's jaw, crushing his head back against stone. _

_His other hand releases, coming down, wrapping unrelenting around Loki's throat, fingers pressing in._

_And Loki struggles uselessly, sputtering as he begins to choke._

"_You are truly a fool then." Thanos goes on, teeth bared. "A pathetic _nothing_! Bastard son to the King of a fallen race of monsters, unwanted… unloved by even _them_, so pitiful, so _useless _are you!"_

_He presses harder, cutting the trickster's air completely, crushing his face._

"_You think you are a god? You think you are worthy of such a title?"_

_He leans down, until he is level with Loki, eyes glowing an unnatural brightness._

"_You are only a runt, spawned from giants. You fail even in what you should naturally be."_

_Loki's hands reach up, clawing uselessly at the Titans own, thin fingers too weak to free himself. Features line in agony, eyes squeezed shut as suffocation takes him, tears streaked down his battered face._

_He's going to die._

_He's been alive multitude millennia, a young god yet, very young, barely more than a child, and he's going to die._

_And it seems so strange to him._

_It seems unreal._

_If he could call his magic to him… if he had anything of it left…_

_But Thanos has drained nearly the last of it now, only enough not to come utterly undone._

_And when it is his body fails him completely, when blackness begins to press in around the edges of his eyes, and all thought begins to dissipate into incoherence, it is then Thanos releases his grip along his throat, and throws him to the ground with violent force._

_Loki gasps loudly, the intake of breath terrible and trembling, sputtering off into choked desperation as he tries urgently to suck air back into his lungs, coughing viciously._

_Thanos sneers down at him, disgust clear across his face._

_The trickster god's true form has long since taken over, the magic holding the glamour of his Aesir form obliterated._

_He is naked and filthy and starved, wasted nearly to nothing._

_The Titan wonders at his stubbornness, at his refusal to die._

_More even at his refusal to cooperate._

_They have abused him greatly. He is beaten and ravaged and without dignity._

_They have reduced him to begging and tears._

_And yet, each time Thanos proposes to him his offer, the runt rejects it and grows insolent. Grows defiant, as though he has some standing to do so, as though he is in any position or bearing any right to be treated as more than the nothing he is._

_It infuriates the Titan, and he thinks he would kill Loki here and now if he weren't in such need of the Jotun's particular abilities._

_He bends down, Loki still struggling for breath, blood trickling bright from his mouth, and Thanos fists a hand in the trickster's ragged hair, jerking his head up, drawing a pained cry from his throat._

"_You _will_ break, child!" He spits._

_He rears his other hand back, cracking it back across Loki's face, snapping his head completely to the side. More blood flies from his nose and mouth._

"_You think yourself special? You think yourself _strong _enough to resist?" The Titan continues meanly. "You know nothing of _pain_ boy. I will show you pain. I will show you suffering so terrible, you will beg then for the embracing arms of death if only to escape it."_

_Again he backhands the god, before finally dropping him to fall in a limp heap._

"_It is inevitable." He says after a moment, standing to his full height once more. "Just as your fate Loki. Your descent down the path set for you by the Norns has already begun, and I will make certain your pathetic attempts at resistance last not much longer."_

_Loki curls in on himself, hands over his head. He says nothing, hiding his face away._

_And Thanos spits on him, before at last turning, striding from the cell._

_On his way out, Loki hears him speak quietly to the Other…_

"_Break all his bones. And then let your soldiers have their way with him. He cannot take much more."_

"_Yes my Lord." The Other replies obediently._

_Loki feels panic burst sickening through him as the door slams shut, and the footsteps of the Other scrap too loud along the ground, those of his followers behind._

_But he can do nothing, cannot defend himself as the creatures hands find him, cannot stop it as they begin to crush and break and snap._

_Distantly, he thinks he can hear a voice speaking, telling him things. But he cannot make out the words._

_All he knows is pain._

_And the sound of his wet and broken screams, overwhelming the rest; the sound of his bones fracturing…_

_And all he knows is _pain_._

_/_

He stands between stars, and he sees the universe spread out before him.

An unending tapestry of galaxies, born and fading and dying, planets forming in violent convergence of gas and particle, ice and rock and dust, spit out from the birth of fire and heat. Hung like jewels against the velvet black of an ever expanding, limitless space, sitting for billions upon billions of years, to be consumed then by the very star which allowed its existence.

Shocking, bright and violent light, and then unyielding dark, and deafening silence.

He has seen this many times.

The birth of things forever…

The death of things forever.

Has felt it in himself.

Pressed helpless towards the entrance of Hel, to the breast of Hela, half rotted, half thriving arms crushing and pinning him in her very halls.

An immortal snuffed out before his life had even really begun.

An immortal who wished for death…

It is beautiful, Loki thinks.

Creation.

And that creations destruction. That is beautiful too.

In some strange way, he thinks he understands.

The mad Titan's love for her.

She who destroys things eternal.

This pull towards darkness to escape the glaring, blinding bright.

Seeking the cold numbing black to relieve the burning agony of exposing light.

Loki, trickster, Loki, Skywalker, Loki of illusion and lies and deceit.

Loki of the shadows.

Yes, he thinks, he understands something of Thanos' desire.

He himself, who has sought always to hide away from burning, bright light. From places he knew in his heart he never did belong.

Hide away, so no one else would ever see what he knew, he knew, he _knew_.

So no one else would see he did not _belong_.

He stands between the stars, and his eyes close, and he sees more.

He sees farther.

He feels.

Magic reaching, searching, revealing.

Thanos is near.

Thanos seeks him.

And he will not run.

He will not.

No more of that.

No more hiding.

Loki understands what it is to seek darkness.

He understands better than any how to use the shadows and the spaces between to disappear into nothing.

To feel as nothing.

It is what the Titan expects of him.

To run and hide and cower away as _nothing_.

But Loki Liesmith, Loki of the Silvertongue… Loki of magic and mischief and guile…

He will not be what is expected of him.

He will be this _god _of fire and chaos and _destruction_.

He will show Thanos the true meaning of ends.

Thanos, who courts death.

In death, the trickster swears, he will show the Titan he courts Loki, son of no one.

And he will know his folly too late.

He courts Loki, bringer of Ragnarok.

Loki, Thanos will see…

He courts Loki…

He courts the end of _all _things.

/

Loki is gone.

And they are panicking.

Thor cares not.

He sits along the edge of the mattress, head held between giant hands, lids squeezed tight. And for it, he can do nothing to stop the stinging wash behind his eyes, the tears escaping past the corners and scorching hot down his lined and anguished face.

He hears Loki's voice in his mind, over and over. The image of him standing there, across from him, looking back at him with such sorrowful eyes.

So much pain and regret…

And he's talking to Thor.

He's telling him he must go. Pleading with him not to follow. And Thor is entreating him to answer _why_.

It had been inside a dream, Thor realizes. As Loki had once used to visit him, those days and months, and sometimes years they had been separated. Those times they had been worlds apart.

Loki would come to him in his dreams, and they would talk for all the time Thor would be sleeping. Through the entirety of the night. And when the morning would come, and Thor would have to wake, Loki would know. He would always know. And he would smile at Thor, and tell him until the next night. And then he would be gone.

And Thor would wake.

When he had woken this time, he had known already Loki was gone.

That hadn't stopped him from bolting upright and running as quickly as he was able to his brother's room, bursting through the door.

Hadn't stopped his heart from sinking and sickening dread settling heavy in the pit of his stomach at finding the space empty.

His roar of helpless rage had shaken the towers very walls and foundations, and Thor knew now, apparently loud enough to wake every other soul in the tower and draw them to the floor.

By the time they'd come bursting through the door, he had sunk to his knees, face buried in his hands, the sting of tears heavy and thick, threatening at the backs of his eyes.

They had asked frantically what was going on, what the matter was, eventually one of them putting their arms around him and guiding him to sit on the bed.

He still doesn't know who it had been.

"Thor… Thor, buddy, are you listening?" Tony asks, crouching down in front of the thunder god, gazing up at him concernedly. "What do you _mean _Loki's gone? _Where_ has he gone?"

The others are standing round him, staring intently, waiting for some kind of answer.

Several minutes pass, and Thor says nothing.

Tony glances back, eyes catching Natasha, her face unnervingly neutral. But the way she stands, her arms crossed tight and unwavering over her chest, even the billionaire can see she's expecting the worse.

"… Thor?" Steve starts finally, unable to take the tension.

And it all comes pouring out in a stream.

"Thanos…" the thunder god breathes, voice trembling slightly. "He… he has gone to face Thanos. On his own, he has…"

His voice trails off, and the Avengers watch as thick fingers curl and tear into thick, blond locks.

None of them have ever seen Thor so distressed.

"… Thanos?" Bruce asks after a moment, echoing the confusion across the rest of their faces.

They have no idea who or what that is.

Thor's fingers curl harder.

"… The Mad Titan." He says in a whisper.

"What?" Tony asks.

Thor looks up.

His eyes are rimmed red, glistening with unshed tears.

"My brother told me. He told me everything." He starts. "After I took him to rest earlier this night, he woke from a night terror, and confessed to me. It was… it was Thanos, Mad Titan, responsible for the Great War, it was he who orchestrated Loki's attack on Midgard. He who… who…"

Again, his voice trails off, and he looks away, tears finally escaping his eyes, slipping down his broad and handsome face.

"He tortured my brother. Tortured him beyond what I can express to you in words, beyond my abilities to say. Made him suffer grotesque torments until… until he agreed to retrieve the Tesseract for them, in return promised his freedom, and this Realm to rule over."

"Wait, wait, wait, back up there a minute Thunderstruke." Tony starts. "What the hell is a "Mad Titan". You need to explain to us who this Thanos guy is."

"He is a myth. Or… that is what we were made to believe growing up. A member of the race of Titans, ancient beings as old as The Aesir and Jotun. Thanos was said to have been driven mad by maltreatment from his own people."

"…_Sounds like someone we know_." Tony thinks, only just managing to keep his mouth shut.

"It is said he destroyed his entire race, remaining the last of his kind, and in his insanity, became consumed with his desire for Death. Convinced in his role as suitor to her, that he must offer her sacrifice in his method of courting, and that is how the Great War was begun, Thanos driven back and beaten only through the combined efforts of all the Nine against him. So long ago was this, it has fallen into the annals of legend, thought by many of our people to be pure fantasy."

"Wait, hold on a second…" Tony interrupts. And he isn't even going to address the little revelation of _Death _being some _chick_. "How old is this Thanos guy, exactly?"

Thor's brow furrows, mouth pulling into a deep frown.

"It is said he is as ancient as Odin All-Father himself."

"Right. And how old's your Dad?" Tony presses.

Thor blinks, a moment passing.

"… Older than this Realm." He answers.

Silence.

"… Well shit." Tony breaths.

The room erupts in panic.

/

**AN: As always guys, thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34:**

_He presses against the heavy, golden door with all his strength, shoulder against it, face scrunched in strained effort, and still, it is barely enough to move it open a crack, barely enough for his small form to fit through. _

_He squeezes past, and doesn't bother in trying to push it back into place._

_For several, long seconds, he only stands there, pillow held tight against his chest, arms crossed over it securely. He stares out across the darkened room to the grand bed located against its back wall, too tall for him to see over the top of unless he ascends the platform it's rested upon._

_He hesitates, biting down hard on his lip to keep from sobbing, one arm uncurling as he wipes the back of his hand against his eyes, trying to clear his vision._

_He knows Father can sometimes be ill tempered when woken in the middle of the night without just cause, but…_

_Images flash through his mind. Shadows reaching for him, cold hands gripping round his weak arms, pulling him in, consuming him. Nothing but blackness, darkness all around, and voices whispering, so many voices, telling him, calling to him._

_A strangled cry slips past his lips, and he moves, his bare feet silent across the marble floor, again hugging the pillow against himself as he nears his parents' bed._

_Stepping up onto the platform, he once more sinks his teeth into his lower lip, face twisting in fear as his Father comes into view, resting still as a stone._

_His shoulders hunch, looking back at the cracked open door, gazing at it a moment in uncertainty before his eyes slip to his feet, staring then at his knobby knees and his bare legs. He wears nothing but his night gown now, and he feels strangely exposed. A frown tugs at his lips, his pale skin showing unusually stark in the dim light._

_He hates his skin. He wishes it were golden, like Thor's._

_He wishes a lot of things._

_Maybe he should go back?_

_Thor never needs to come to Mother or Father when he's scared. Thor never _is_ scared._

_He thinks maybe he's being a baby, and he should be _tougher _than this. He should be more grown up._

_But…_

_His dream had been so scary, and… and he's…_

_His head lifts, gaze again falling over his Father, and he can't wait anymore._

_He reaches up, tiny hand finding Odin's sleeve, small fingers curling into the material and tugging._

_Odin doesn't stir._

"… _F-Father." Loki says softly. Too softly to hear._

_He tugs again._

_Odin shifts, turning away from him and grumbling something unintelligible. _

_Loki's face lines in anxiety, and he tugs harder._

"_Father…" he says, barely managing to keep his voice restrained now, barely managing to keep from sobbing it out. "Father, I… I'm scared. I'm really scared…"_

_Another moment, and finally, Odin turns back, his one good eye opening, slowly, lacking focus as he mumbles…_

"… _Loki? What is it…?"_

_Loki looks up at him, swallowing thickly, fresh tears building in his eyes and escaping down his cheeks._

"_I'm scared." He repeats quietly. _

_Odin huffs out wearily, his hand coming up, rubbing over his face, pushing back through his long hair. _

_Finally, his vision seems to clear, and he looks at the boy before him, taking in his state._

"_Loki, what is wrong?" He says softly, pushing himself up onto his elbow and looking more closely at his son's tear stained face._

_That's all it seems to take for Loki to lose all the control he was trying so hard to hold on to, and his expression breaks, brow creasing heavy._

"_I h-had… had a bad d-dream Father." He cries. "I had a r-really scary dream."_

_Odin sighs, reaching out, running rough-skinned fingers across the boy's cheeks, wiping the tears from them._

"_Again?" He asks._

_And Loki nods sheepishly, eyes lowering to the floor._

"_I t-tried waking Thor, bu-but he… he w-wouldn't get up."_

"_Husband, what is it?" Frigga's tired voice suddenly calls out, still half-asleep._

_Odin looks over at her, shaking his head and waving her back down._

"_It is nothing. Only Loki suffering another night terror. Go back to sleep, I will handle it."_

_Loki hugs his pillow tighter against him, feeling the burn of humiliation flush across his face, his eyes casting down._

"_I… I'm sorry." He says, nearly soundless._

_Odin frowns before sitting up fully, reaching out, his strong, thick hands taking hold of his youngest underneath his arms, lifting him easily from the floor and bringing him up onto the bed._

"_No, no Loki. It is alright son. It is alright."_

_He brings Loki against his chest, holding him close, and Loki's arms come loose from around his pillow, letting it drop as he reaches back, circling them around his Father's neck, burying his face against his shoulder._

_Odin's hand comes up, cupping the back of Loki's head, shushing him gently as the second Prince weeps against him._

_Loki trembles as if cold, and Odin's frown deepens._

_This is the third time this week Loki's wound up here, driven awake and from his rooms by nightmares._

_They are becoming worse and more frequent for him, depriving him of much needed sleep, and Odin is growing worried._

_Loki is already so fragile, and so young. Only last month was his sixtieth name day. These years are vital for him if he is to grow healthier, stronger, and sleep deprivation is the last thing he needs. He's already so far behind in his physical development to the other children, and Odin sees, more and more, riddled with an anxiousness and stress not normal for a boy his age._

_Odin suspects it is Loki's mind. He thinks too much, too rapidly. _

_Sees too much. _

_Is too aware. _

_And the All-Father knows it only overwhelms the boy; a child too young to know yet how to bear such a heavy burden._

_So much sensory input and taking apart and analyzing. Everything Loki sees, he sees beneath, and unravels each layer to the internal workings and core._

_Nothing is simple, nothing a fanciful delight or distraction. _

_Everything a problem needing to be solved._

_Loki does not play._

_He can find no relief in children's games._

_Odin fears the affect it will have on him. _

_This ceaseless worrying and thinking and _seeing_._

_He cards his fingers gently through Loki's short hair, kneading soothingly against his scalp._

"_Shh, shh, shh," he hushes him. "All is well Loki. It was only a dream. Remember son, what I told you about dreams?"_

_Loki's arms hold tighter, face pressing harder. For a moment, he doesn't reply, still shaking, until at last he nods feebly._

"_What did I tell you son?" Odin presses softly._

"… _Th… that they aren't real." Loki whispers. "That they can't h… hurt me if they aren't real."_

"_That is right boy." Odin says. "And so you are safe. You understand? Whatever darkness you see in your dreams, it cannot reach you here. You have my word Loki. I will always protect you."_

_Loki nods._

_Not letting go._

_Several minutes passing before the young Prince mumbles against him, unsure and quiet…_

"… _Can I sleep here with you tonight Father?" _

_Odin pulls back slightly, looking down at him, and Loki looks back, eyes wide and pleading._

"_Please Father?" He asks. "I… I do not want to… t-to go back yet. I promise I won't be trouble. I promise I won't cry any… anymore and I'll be very quiet. I'll be very quiet…"_

_Odin smiles softly at him, giving a nod._

"_Of course Loki. You may stay."_

_The grin which spreads across his youngest son's face is enough to cause the same along his own, and Odin lifts the boy up, placing him gently between himself and his Mother, making sure there's room enough for him._

"_My pillow…" Loki begins, looking to the forgotten lump in Odin's lap, reaching for it._

_Odin smiles softly, taking it up and handing it to him, and Loki holds it tight against himself, burying his little face against its top before flopping down, burrowing beneath the thick blankets._

_For a moment, Odin watches him, and he feels his heart bloom with affection as the child pushes against him, pressed up tight._

_Loki is so different from Thor, though yet it does not seem to affect the closeness of their relationship._

_But Thor is all brashness and courage and recklessness, while Loki is all quiet and shyness and reserve. And while Thor has long since grown out of the age when nightmares send him running for his parents, Odin feels strangely that it will be as long yet before Loki does the same. Perhaps because he knows Thor never suffered the sorts of terrible dreams which plague his youngest son._

_He worries often for how sensitive Loki is, for his knowing already, so young, the Nine are not all joy and beauty and goodness. For knowing there is darkness and suffering and ill-intentions. _

_It is not, Odin thinks, something one so young should think of, but he knows Loki does nonetheless._

"_Father?" He is distracted from his thoughts by the soft sound of his son's voice._

"_Yes, Loki?" He asks._

_Loki is clinging to him now, small hands bunched tightly in the material of his night clothes._

_A few moment pass without him answering, and then Odin hears him, voice even softer._

"_Is… is it true what… what they say about me?" He dares to glance up at his Father, eyes desperate and frightened. "That…th-that I'm going to end everything?"_

_Odin frowns deeply, feeling his heart clench in sudden and unwanted dread._

"… _Who told you this boy?" He asks gently, trying to keep the concern from his voice._

_Loki looks away, ashamed._

"…_The other children." He whispers. "They… they say I'm going to make… m-make Ragnarok come and… and everything. They say…"_

_His voice trails off, and there are tears in his eyes suddenly, slipping down his pale cheeks, and Odin reaches out, pushing his fingers through Loki's short hair, cupping his crown in his palm._

"_Listen not to what the other children say Loki." He says, voice low and soothing._

_His heart aches, a heavy weight against his chest as he sees the pain etched across his boys face, the way he trembles slightly._

_The other children tease Loki. He knows this. They say unkind, oft cruel things to him even, and Loki is shy, and withdrawn, and he so rarely fights back. Odin supposes, in some ways, it is better he does not. Because he is small, and it would only invite them into assaulting him physically. And Odin knows too that Loki has Thor, and Thor is always there to protect him, and defend him when he cannot._

_Still, it concerns the All-Father greatly, that others can see that Loki is different, troubles him further that they single him out for it and make him suffer for it. _

_He worries sometimes that… that they will discover… that Loki will then discover…_

_But no, he cannot allow such thoughts to enter his mind. He has taken every precaution he knows, and no one in the Kingdom but he and Frigga are aware of Loki's true parentage. _

_He will make certain it remains that way._

"_But what if it's true Father?" Loki is saying again, voice now thick with his tears. "What if I'm really as bad as they say?"_

"_Loki," Odin begins, stern now._

_And the boy looks up at him again, recognizing the tone._

_Odin hates lying to Loki._

_He hates keeping from the child his own concerns regarding the path set for him by the Norns. How it has kept him awake nights, thinking of it since he and Frigga brought him to receive such._

_But he cannot burden Loki with one thing more._

_With thoughts that his own _Father _fears him._

_Fears what he may in time bring._

"_You are not bad my son." He finishes. "You are not. You understand? Do not listen to what others say of you. They may say many things, cruel things. But you know in your heart what you are, and no matter how vicious their words, they can never take that from you. Do you see? If you know in your heart you are good, then you are good, and no actions or lies of others, no _fate_ can alter that. You will always have the power to overcome these things Loki. You will always have the strength, if you but believe yourself capable."_

_For minutes then, the room falls silent, Loki still pressed against his father, face since buried against his shoulder._

_He has grown very still and quiet, and Odin wonders for a moment if the child hasn't fallen asleep._

_But then he hears Loki, voice small and fragile, yet filled with strength of truth. _

"_I love you Father." He says._

_And Odin bends, kissing him gently atop his head, whispering back._

"_And I you my Son. Now sleep, and tomorrow, you will have forgotten all the sadness of tonight."_

_Another lie, he knows._

_But he wishes so much for Loki to stop suffering._

He starts awake with nearly a gasp, sitting up straight and rigid.

Beside him, Frigga stirs, turning over, a hand reaching aimless for his shoulder.

"Husband…" she begins wearily, eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. She senses already something wrong. "… what is it?"

Odin stares ahead into the darkness of their room, breath heavy and burdened. He says nothing, and the sleep drains quickly from Frigga's mind.

She sits up, looking at him intently now.

"Odin…?"

"Our son…" he begins finally, voice quiet and filled with dread.

And Frigga's concern grows tenfold, her arms tugging and pulling her nightgown tight across herself.

"Our son?" She begins warily.

"He is in danger." Odin says, almost absently. "He is in grave danger."

"_Who_?" Frigga demands. "Which of our boys Odin?"

And Odin turns to her at last, eye wide and broken in fear.

"… Loki." He breaths. "Loki, he… he engages an enemy he cannot hope to defeat. I sense it. I sense him…"

Frigga can feel her heart hammering in her chest now, sickening dread dropping down to the pit of her stomach.

"No…" she says. "No. We must… we must do something."

But already Odin is pushing himself from the bed.

Already he is making himself across the room, and out.

Making his way to Heimdall.

And Frigga is already following behind.

/

**AN: Getting near the end here folks! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! Thanks again to everyone!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35:**

"_You seek me, Mad Titan? You seek me, then, I wait for you. I wait for you to find me, here, and we will _end_ this, you and I. We will end this at last_."

He waits…

He waits for how long, he does not know.

But he waits, and he knows.

He _knows_ his thoughts have been sent, and received.

And he waits for their response.

He waits what seems forever.

And he nearly is unprepared for the sound of the ugly and deep laughter, filling his mind, breaking through his thoughts with brutal force and vicious mocking.

Nearly loses his own focus at the awful familiarity of it, at the swell of unwanted emotions it dredges, which he had near convinced himself he felt no more.

Pain, and worry.

Loneliness…

_Fear_…

He shoves it down, evens himself, steadies himself with steel and fire and all the thousands of years of his warrior life, eyes closed as he listens.

He has been bred to fight.

And he will.

By the Norns, he _will_.

"_Little Princeling_." Thanos says. "There _you are_."

Loki breaths deep, releasing it slow.

"_Here I am_." He replies smoothly.

Laughter again, and Loki has to fight the feeling of nausea it stirs within him.

"_So _brave,_ little Prince. Letting me see you like this_." He says. "_Or rather perhaps foolish. You never have shown wisdom, for all you great wit and intelligence_."

"_You will come Thanos. And we shall then see who is a fool_." Loki answers, sharp and quick.

Again, the Titan laughs.

"_Indeed. You boast courage, runt, but I can sense the fear in you. You are so very afraid of me still_."

Loki does not bother to deny it. Thanos is in his mind, and he will know it for a lie.

He counters instead.

"_And you shall fear me, Titan, when you make the mistake of revealing yourself. You court Death. I will show you the true meaning of what Death is_."

"You dare to presume any true knowledge of my Mistress?" Thanos asks, anger seeping into his words.

Loki smiles.

"_The presumption is your own Thanos. I am the bringer of Death. _I _am her harbinger. You merely an infatuated follower. I who leads her to her ultimate desire, while you offer her petty and worthless trinkets as proof of your devotion_."

Loki can feel his heart hammering sickeningly in his chest, the thick smothering of terror which consumes him at daring… _daring _to speak to a creature who once had shown him a level of pain he had never thought possible.

His mouth is dry with it.

He does not care.

"_You dare speak to me in such an impudent tongue_?" Thanos growls inside his head.

Loki pushes on, undeterred.

"_I am not the boy you glimpsed in your dissection of my mind Thanos_." He replies. "_I am no longer that helpless and ignorant child you made me feel as, nor will you ever make me feel as again_."

"_Oh, but you are Princeling. You _are." Thanos bellows and laughs.

And suddenly Loki's vision is filled with memory, vivid and clear and treacherous.

Suddenly, he is one hundred and twelve years old again.

Suddenly, he is a child, wandering across an open field, hands outstretched, feeling the rye as it brushes against his fingertips.

_There is a soft and warm breeze, pressing against his cheeks, pleasant._

_And he smiles, laughs in delight._

_He cannot remember exactly how his feet led him to this place. Only knows it is a place he has not yet discovered within Asgard's vast expanse, and excitement bubbles in his chest at the prospect of exploring and learning new things here, seeing new things._

_Even Thor does not know of this place, Loki is sure, and he grows more excited still at the thought of getting to show his older brother something for once._

_Thor will be proud of him, he thinks, for being adventurous._

… _He hopes Thor will be proud of him._

_He goes on for a while, moving through the tall blades, eyes moving and gliding over everything around him._

_It is quiet here, he notices. Only the sound of the wind to accompany his soft footsteps and softer breath. _

_A while longer, and he realizes he doesn't quite know which direction is which._

_Doesn't quite remember from which direction he _came_._

_And he recognizes his predicament as something uncomfortably close to being _lost_._

_But he's _not _lost, and he will _not _panic._

_He _will not_._

_Because he knows if he panics, he'll never find his way back to the palace, and then it will be just as last time something like this happened._

_He feels his cheeks flush at the memory. How he'd ended up curled on the ground, sobbing like a baby until he'd exhausted himself into unconsciousness. How when he'd woken, he'd been back in his bed, Mother by his side, running her fingers through his hair and singing softly to him._

_He'd found out from her that it had been Heimdall who had seen him, had sent a party of palace workers to gather him and bring him back._

_Word of it had spread to some of the other children who spent time in the palace, and they had teased him mercilessly over it for several weeks following._

_But Loki tries not to think of it now. He tries desperately to push down the fear curling in his belly as he glances around, heart sinking as his eyes are met with nothing but the same stretch of golden rye in each direction, and he doesn't know where he _is_._

_And it is as the fear begins to blossom into panic, he hears the sound of voices, rowdy and clambering. Voices not quite so young as his, not adolescent, but not quite fully matured either, and his heart seizes in his chest, dropping like a stone and leaving him at once dizzy and sick._

_He turns, eyes catching and locking on the group of boys, three of them, some few hundred paces from where he stands. They look to be about Thor's age, but he has never lain eyes on them before, and he realizes at once that they are not nobles, but commoners from within the city, perhaps from the outskirts, given their disheveled and worn attire._

_They haven't seen him yet, he doesn't think, laughing amongst one another, shoving and hitting, as boys that age often do._

_Loki feels himself shrink down at the sight._

_The other children who roam the palace know Loki is weaker than them, and they know too how he dislikes rough play for it. It is why they make it a tradition, pulling him into such activity, even when he protests. Bat him around until an adult wanders by or Thor comes and rescues him._

_But there are no adults around now…_

_No Thor…_

_And these boys are commoners. Rougher and cruder than the children he normally contends with._

_He swallows thickly, feeling himself begin to tremble, just slightly, and he hates himself for it._

_Maybe they'll recognize him, he thinks. Maybe they'll realize who he is and help him find his way back to the palace._

_He allows himself to hope for only the briefest of moments before logic sets in and crushes it._

_Even if they do, Loki is not well received no matter where in the city he goes. _

_It is because he is small, he knows, and unskilled as yet in the ways of battle, and because he prefers scholarly pursuits of studying and reading and has shown great potential already in the wielding of his magic that he is derided and disliked. _

_He is not as a Prince of the Realm should be._

_He knows this._

_But he cannot help it._

_He cannot help the way he is…_

_Don't they understand that if he could be some way else, he _would _be? He would, but he cannot, and…_

_Tears spring unwanted to his eyes at the thought, and without thinking, he brings his hand up, wiping the back of it against his face, trying to clear his vision._

_He thinks to hide then, to lower himself in the rye and wait until the boys pass. _

_He'll find his way out of this field on his own after that._

_He's sure he can, if he just tries._

_He just has to try…_

_But he doesn't get the chance, and he nearly swallows his tongue as he hears one of the boys call out, clear and loud…_

"_Ho! Who goes there?"_

_Loki freezes, his mouth suddenly going dry, and he is paralyzed to the spot, unable to respond, to move, to do _anything _as the boys come jogging towards him._

_Loki stares up at them, his arms inadvertently coming up around himself, crossing over his thin chest._

_He tries to think of Thor, of how Thor would act in this situation._

_Thor never shows any fear. Thor never hesitates to pull his rank and stand his ground._

_Loki thinks now that's what he should do, even though his knees feel weak and his throat is tight and he's still shaking._

_He hopes they don't notice._

_The largest boy, the obvious leader, glares down at him, face twisted in confusion._

"_Eh, who are you, lil' runt?" He asks, accent thick and unrefined._

_Definitely from around the city's outskirts then._

_Loki swallows painfully._

_Be like Thor, be like Thor, be like Thor… he repeats to himself like a mantra._

_He lifts his chin up, straightening his posture._

_He suddenly wishes he had worn more formal garb than the simple silk tunic and leather trousers he sports now. But he hadn't told anyone he was venturing outside the palace grounds, and he hadn't wanted them to know. If he'd come back with his best clothes soiled, they would have._

"_I am Prince Loki Odinson." He says, stiffly, trying desperately to keep his voice level and calm._

_The boy stares at him incredulously, face pulling in suspicion a long moment before, abruptly, one of the boys behind him explodes into laughter._

"_You aren't any Prince." He said. "He isn't any Prince." He looked around at his companions. "Look at 'em. He's too small. Scrawny 'lil scrape of nothin', he is."_

_Inexplicably, Loki feels a rush of anger at the words, and without thinking, he shouts back…_

"_I am so a Prince! I am the son of Odin, brother of Thor, and… and I command you to… to take me back to the palace!"_

_The oldest boy again starts._

"_No, I… I do believe he's tellin' the truth." He begins, smiling meanly. "I seen the Royal family once, in the city. The littlest one, Prince Loki, he was taggin' behind, holding the Crown Prince's hand. I remember him now. I remember you now, 'lil runt."_

_The third boy now…_

"_You lost, little Prince?"_

_Loki swallows, feeling by the moment more and more uneasy._

_He's getting a terrible feeling off of these boys, and he's all alone out here…_

_Silently, he curses himself for his slip, and his mind works frantically, trying to think of a way out of it now._

"_I…" he starts, clumsily. "I am not lost. I have merely… m-merely taken a wrong turn and am now headed back the way I…"_

"_Listen to how he talks!" The second boy cuts him off, grinning. "Oh, he's definitely from the palace then, eh?"_

_The first boy suddenly reaches out, jabbing a thick and dirtied finger against Loki's chest, pushing him back slightly._

"_This here's _our_ field, runt." He says. "You may be special and whatnot back there, but here,_ we___make the rules, and we says you're trespassin' where you ain't wanted."_

"_Loki? Ain't you the one everyone hates?" The second boy asks. "Everyone says you make the All-Father ashamed 'cause you're so weak and scrawny. I sees what they mean now."_

_The rage returns to Loki, tenfold, his thin, small face screwing up, hands balling to fists._

_He begins to shake harder._

"_That is not true!" He shouts._

_The boy only laughs._

"_Sure it is." He says. "Look at you! You know what else they says? That Odin wishes you'd never been born. That's what they says. That it would've saved the whole Royal lot of 'em the humiliation of having to drag around a worthless runt like you if you'd just died when you were a baby. _Shoulda'_ died when you were born. Thing like you wouldn't make it if you wasn't so pampered and privileged."_

_And now Loki can no longer contain it._

_He loses control, tears forming and welling thick and blinding in his eyes._

_It isn't true._

_It isn't, it isn't, it isn't!_

_Father loves him! And Mother too! And Thor! He knows they do. He knows it!_

_He knows…_

"_LIAR!" He cries, and without thought, hurls himself at the boy, arms flailing, striking out._

_He wants to _hurt_._

_He wants to hurt and make the boy shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!_

_He makes it two steps before he's knocked back violently by a blow to the face, crashing hard and unforgiving against his back._

_And the world spins._

_Pain exploding through his face, up through his temples as his eyes momentarily roll back in his head, and he forgets where he is._

_He's reminded quickly enough as he feels hands burying in the material of his tunic, yanking him up, and the familiar taste of copper fills his mouth, sliding down his throat, making him nauseous. _

_His lids flutter, his vision blurring and doubling, then blinded by the high sun._

_Blocked out an instant later as the face of the group's leader comes into view, sneering down at Loki with clear, unhidden disdain._

"_That was a mistake, 'lil runt." He says, vicious. _

_Loki reaches up reflexively, small hands gripping round the boys wrists, trying to tug his hold free._

"_Let me up." He commands, trying to make his voice steady._

Be like Thor_, he thinks desperately. _Be like Thor_. _

"_H… how dare you… you place your hands upon a s-son… a son of Odin…"_

_But his voice is small, and weak, and even to his own ears, it sounds not convincing at all._

_The boy's mouth twists in disgust._

"_You think just because you are who you are, you can order us about? This here isn't the palace, and there ain't no one here to protect you now."_

_There is a glint of something terrible in the boys eyes then; something that makes Loki's heart seize in his chest and then begin beating rapidly and painful underneath his ribcage. _

_Something worse than the cruelty of the children at the palace who taunt him and beat him up sometimes._

_Loki struggles._

_He struggles madly._

_Because he knows now, he _knows _he's in trouble._

_He's in very _real _trouble._

_And he has to get away._

_He has to, oh gods, they're going to…_

"_Get his boots off." The boy says, and at once, he's caught Loki's wrists in his hands, and he's pinning them to the ground above his head, laying across him and squashing his attempts to break free._

_Loki feels someone tugging at the boots on his feet, and seemingly of its own volition, a scream tears from his throat, loud and piercing and shrill._

_He's scared._

_He's so, so scared._

_The boy holding him just laughs._

"_Don't struggle, 'lil runt. You'll only make it worse for yourself."_

_But if Loki hears him, he doesn't listen, and he continues thrashing, trying in a frenzied panic to pull his arms loose, to get away._

_He has to get away!_

"_Now this'll only hurt a little." The boy shouts over Loki's now broken and strangled protests. _

_Loki's mind erupts in horror then, as he feels other hands take hold of his ankles, pinning his legs down hard._

_He screams again, bucking up, trying to break free._

_But he can't._

_He isn't strong enough._

_Isn't _strong enough_!_

_The boy holds him down like it's nothing._

_And as he tries again to rip out of his hold, all he's rewarded with this time is a swift fist to the face, hardened knuckles scraping across his nose and mouth, everything exploding into white and humming noise._

_He falls limp, and in that moment, his wrists are released._

_But he can't move._

_He can't do anything._

_Can't do anything as his tunic is pulled up and over his head, and there's the hot, midday air, oppressive against his bare skin._

_Why can't he move?_

_Why can't he _move_?_

_Oh gods, please…_

_His mind races, searching, thinking…_

_There is a spell…_

_An incantation he can speak which will teleport him away from here._

_He knows this._

_He's read it, studied it in books._

_Oh, but gods, he cannot think of the words now!_

_He cannot remember._

_Why can he not remember?_

_But it matters naught anyway._

_There is the sound of tearing cloth, and at once, a thick wad of material is being shoved in to his mouth, between his teeth._

_Gagging him…_

_And then his wrists are being bound the same with what remains of the article, tight and hard._

"_I hear this one meddles about in magic and such." One of them says. "Best not to let him get any spells or whatnot off."_

_And he's being turned over suddenly, flipped onto his stomach and pressed down._

_Held down._

_And he can't move…_

_Can't move…_

_Can't get away…_

_And then there is pain._

_So much pain…_

_Boots sinking into his sides, fists and heels across his back and neck and crown. The sound of bones breaking filling his ears._

_Everything fading but drowning, suffocating pain._

_Loki screams._

_But no one hears him…_

"NO!"

Loki's voice rises and echo's and surrounds, eyes snapping open, glowing green fury as a wave of pure, explosive energy rips off him, concussing violently outward, rippling, tearing through the air of space, a sonic boom following in its wake.

The air crackles and sparks and unsettles, electric green waves playing over long, pale fingers, rising up all over the rest of him, hair blowing and whipping in this maelstrom of his own rage.

"YOU WILL NOT FILL MY MIND WITH VISIONS OF DAYS PAST AND EXPECT MY DESOLATION! YOU WILL COME TO ME THANOS, AND I WILL BE YOUR _END_! YOU WILL COME TO ME, OR I WILL FIND YOU IF YOU ARE TOO COWARDLY, AND YOU SHALL FEEL THE FULL WRATH OF MY _HATRED_!"

There comes no reply.

Only the dead silence, filled with the violence of uncontained, relentless magic.

Loki's face twists in viciousness.

"YOU WILL KNOW FEAR THANOS!" He rages. "YOU WILL KNOW WHAT IT IS THAT IS FEAR WHEN I COME, AND YOU FEEL MY HAND REACH THROUGH AND CRUSH YOUR BEATING HEART BENEATH MY HAND. YOU WILL KNOW FEAR, TITAN, WHEN YOU LOOK INTO THE EYES OF THE GOD OF CHAOS, AND YOU UNDERSTAND THEN WHO IT IS THAT IS THE TRUE LOVER OF _DEATH_!"

And in a whirl of wind and light and blinding energy, he is gone, stepping through the pathways, between the branches of the great tree, to those spaces beyond.

Into the darkness of those spaces beyond.

Blackness and darkness of the void…

/

AN: So just a couple more chapters after this one guys.

About the flashback that Thanos ignites in Loki's mind, I figure those boys who attacked him were punished, since certainly Heimdall would have seen it. How they were punished I leave to your vivid imaginations.

Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36:**

It leads him back to this place.

This barren rock of nothing.

Of cold, lifeless death.

Floating anonymous and lost in the darkness of the void.

It leads him back here; to his own place of torment.

And Loki thinks, through his unwanted and burgeoning dread, how fitting a place it would be for the end of two monsters.

He pushes that dread down as the rock forms around him, blue and black and silent, hard and stale beneath his booted feet.

How strange this place…

How strange.

He did not notice before, through his own, panicked agony.

Through his own desperation.

It gives no sound.

No echo.

No noise as he steps forward, boot against ground.

Nothing.

He smiles grimly.

Fitting indeed.

Loki would almost think he had been borne of this wretched scrap of rock, if not for the stifling, dead weight of the air, cloying uncomfortably at his cool skin.

Another step forward, and there is the unease of certain danger along the hairs of his arms, the back of his neck, and he smothers it with a sneer.

He will not be afraid.

He will not be weak.

Not he…

Not Loki…

Warrior…

_Prince _of Asgard…

He will _not_.

"Thanos!" He calls, loudly and unwavering, his voice falling flat and unmoving around him.

And that is all it takes.

Around him, the silence shatters and out of stillness explodes hundreds upon hundreds of them, snarling and roaring and hissing grotesquely, baring their fangs and their claws and their weapons.

Those same instruments of his own torture and defilement.

The Chitauri.

And fear is quenched by rage.

Growing, hot _rage_.

And Loki draws his power to him, thick and thrumming and _cool_; like relieving ice through his very veins, spreading and expanding and threading through him in almost uncontrolled, chaotic waves.

His eyes fill with it, lighting and glowing with its strength, its promise of life and death, creation and destruction; burning green _fire_.

They surround him, and he moves not, standing and still.

A sharp hooked staff forms and materializes, sure and balanced in his hand.

And in them, he senses hesitation.

His lips quirk up, only faint, and he looks up ahead of himself.

Staring ahead…

"Come on, then." He says softly.

They lunge towards him in a throng.

/

"My husband!" Frigga calls, hands buried in the flowing train of her nightgown as she runs towards him, as he mounts his steed without delay. "My husband, answer!" She goes on, at last reaching him, stopping and breathing heavy as he settles himself into the saddle of his stallion.

"You see him?" She asks, looking up, hand to chest. "You see Loki?"

"I sense him." Odin replies, staring ahead. "I must seek Heimdall. Loki is in great danger."

"From whom?" She presses. "What?"

Odin glances down at her, brow heavy with weariness.

For several, long moments, he says nothing, and the Queen feels dizzy with dread.

"… It is Thanos, the Mad Titan."

Frigga gasps, tears immediate and unbidden to her eyes.

"… No." She breaths in barely a whisper. "It cannot be…"

"I did not know… I did not realize until this moment…"

Odin's voice trails, and his eyes lower.

"It is Thanos who took Loki in the void. I have seen it, in a dream. Thanos who took him… tortured him…"

The Queen looks away, eyes closing as her tears fall, hot and painful down her white cheeks.

Her hands begin to tremble.

"I have been a fool Wife." The All-Father goes on. "Such a fool…"

"Is… is Thor with him?" Frigga questions urgently.

Odin hesitates a moment.

"… No." He says after a moment. "Our first son resides still on Midgard, with his shield companions. Loki has left him behind."

Frigga cannot keep the strained worry from her expression, her hands clutching at her chest, fingers folding against her palm.

"He is alone then?" She says. "He faces this danger alone?"

Odin nods grimly.

"Aye." He says, hands clutching tight round the reins of Sleipnir. "But not for long."

And he kicks against the great steeds sides, whipping the reins.

"Hye!" He calls. "Run horse! Carry me swift!"

And the eight legged stallion roars forward, hooves thundering and loud as he carries his rider from the stables and out, charging like lightening out towards the Rainbow Bridge.

/

It is a wave of raw energy which drives them back, blasting their second and third waves clear off their feet, onto their backs, the first wave evaporating in the heat of magic and fire.

And Loki spins, violent and fast and all fluid grace, twirling his staff in a curving arc, his other hand filling with a razor edged blade.

Halfway through his rotation, and he lets it fly, hearing it reach its mark, sinking several inches into the throat of an approaching soldier, dropping him dead as Loki's eyes fix on the three before him, and his staff comes around with him momentum, charged at the end with magic.

He slices it through them, across their abdomens, and their insides implode before they ever get within five feet.

Dozens more hurl themselves towards him at once, no apprehension, and Loki meets them, more daggers coming to his hand, slicing with lethal precision through the air, felling several in quick succession as he takes out another approaching swath with his staff, ripping it through them as he spins, a roar tearing from his lips as he calls his magic to his hand, letting the energy coil and conduct through the hilt of the weapon and explode outwards in a blast, taking another wall of Chitauri.

What seems forever, this keeps on, the trickster god never moving from his position at the center, only turning to meet his attackers, sometimes not as he fells them with knives and encompassing blasts of his power, cracking his staff against the ground and sending the shockwaves of it outwards and fully around him.

Any who manage to come within a few feet, he impales at the staffs end.

What seems forever.

Until it is not, and there are only a few dozen left, and in blinding rage and hate, Loki destroys them as though they are nothing, and he cries out, voice broken and ragged and breathless.

Head dizzy with the berserker lust.

"I am not so weak as you found me!" He says, looking around him at the destruction of their army, the bloodied and lifeless corpses of the dead creatures. "Useless worms! I am a GOD! And you taste the power of a god undiminished!"

There is a sound, metal against rock, and scurrying fear, and Loki turns, eyes narrowing, green glow from between enraged slits.

"YOU!" He snarls, and in an instant, he's thrust his hand out towards the fleeing form, feeling the surge of power through the tips of his fingers, rippling through the air as it seizes its target.

The figure freezes, paralyzed, a horrified scream tearing from his ugly mouth.

He tries uselessly to break free.

Loki stalks towards him, reaching out as he comes within distance, long, thin fingers burying in the material of the creatures hood, ripping it back to reveal his gnarled and deformed face.

The trickster god doesn't smile as he comes round, facing the Other, his mouth set into a disdainful line.

The Other stares back with wide and terrified eyes.

"Where?" Loki hisses, reaching out and grasping the Chitauri general by his jaw, squeezing down with crushing pressure. "Where _is_ he?"

The Other's face twists in hatred, jaw moving and gnashing as he stares back at the god with venom.

"You will pay for this, trickster!" He spits. "You will be torn limb from lim…"

Loki backhands him, hard, and the Others voice dies in his throat, bone cracking and fracturing beneath skin.

"Coward." The god hisses. "He is a coward then. Sending his low and pathetic minions to face his enemy."

An expression of shocked indignation comes over the Others face, and he snarls…

"You dare speak of him in your filthy tongue!"

"Your _master_ deserves no less than the finest of insults." Loki shoots back, unflinching. "For so refined a bastard only the sharpest tongue should be reserved."

"You insolent…! Wretched… Jotun scum RUNT! You will be destroyed for this! You will be…"

He hasn't the chance to finish, a surge of power crippling his voice.

And his eyes go wide in the instant after, as his insides come undone; and blood trickles deep from the holes of his face, the life in him flickering out.

Loki's face sets in unhappy lines, and he lets the dead creature slip from his hand to fall crumpled on the barren and cold dirt.

He turns, eyes casting up, arms thrown wide.

He hollers into space.

"Do you hear me, Thanos! You are a coward if you will not come and face me! A vile disgrace!"

Nothing in response.

The rock has again grown silent.

And Loki feels the rage boil over, drowning him in it, washing away thought or fear.

"YOU LOVE DEATH? YOU CLAIM THIS LOVE? DEATH WILL ONLY FROWN UPON ONE SO SHY TO FACE HER! NAY, SHE WILL SPARE YOU NOT EVEN HER NOTICE FOR SUCH A GESTURE, YOU SO BENEATH HER ATTENTIONS!"

"Your tongue betrays you, little god." A base voice behind him says.

Loki freezes, feeling his frame tense.

Fear returns, and he pushes it back down.

"… My tongue does not betray me." He answers, and his voice is strong and steady.

Deep laughter.

"It betrays you." The voice repeats. "As it always has. As it always will."

And Loki shakes his head, and he turns, and he sees before him the Mad Titan.

Stares up at him, and forces himself to stay.

"It does not." He answers back again. "As it produced the desired affect."

Thanos grins, and Loki struggles to keep the chill from his face.

"You are your own greatest enemy, Loki." He says, hands folding behind his broad back.

"And so too am I yours." The god replies smoothly, effortlessly, keeping his eyes locked on the being before him.

Thanos takes a step near, cocks his head aside, narrowing his gaze on the trickster.

"And you have grown bold since last we met." He goes on, as though he hasn't even heard Loki's threat.

Loki remains silent now, refusing to look away though every part of his being cries for him to.

"Do you think this encounter will be any different, godling?" The Titan presses, moving around, beginning to circle.

Loki remains as he is, determined not to move with him, to not allow Thanos to dictate this.

"It will be different." He says.

Thanos laughs.

"How then Loki?" He goes on. "Your power cannot match mine. You know this. And you have given away any ambush you might have hoped to spring, though futile it would have been."

He is moving around behind Loki now, and it takes every ounce of discipline the trickster god has ever known to not turn and face him.

His hands clench at his sides, fingers tightening around the staff.

"… It matters not." He grinds out.

Thanos affects a surprised expression.

"Oh?" He asks. "And why not?"

"I will not cower before you, Thanos." Loki answers. "I will not run. And that is different."

A soft chuckle from the Titan.

"And you have claimed word for word the same in the past."

And now Loki turns, face composed but tight with rage. He glares unblinking at Thanos, meeting him steady and strong.

"You will not use me again, Titan." He says. "You will never force me to willing bended knee _again_!"

"And we shall test these claims, boy!" Thanos suddenly roars, and without further warning, he lunges at Loki, striking out with vicious speed and strength.

And Loki dissipates before him, wavering with his strike before vanishing to nothing.

Thanos stumbles slightly, and turns, for a moment, his face twisted in unfathomable rage.

But as quickly as the emotion comes, it goes, and a humored grin spreads over his features.

"Clever, Loki. You are so clever." His eyes scan around him.

Searching.

Grin widening as he sees what he looks for.

"Oh, but not quite clever _enough_!"

He reaches out, reaches _in_, to the spaces between, and _tears_…

Loki cannot help his startled gasp as the Titan rips him from the other plane, or the momentary loss of breath as he's pulled unforgivingly back and hurled like a toy across the unyielding landscape.

He lands, hard, against his shoulder, curling in on himself and rolling back to his feet, holding himself crouched only a moment before springing back up. And with a yell of enraged power, he thrusts his hands forward, a massive flash of green light and swirling energy blasting forth from the tips of his fingers, towards Thanos.

It takes the Titan by surprise, and he barely is able to lift his arms in time to block before the blast hits him, sending him flying off his own feet and back several meters.

Loki doesn't hesitate, striding a few paces before breaking into a full run, leaping into the air as he goes, staff forming in his hand, and he drives it down over the felled Titan, aiming for his heart.

Thanos rolls, narrowly avoiding the strike, and as Loki comes down, the Titan lashes out, slamming a fist against the back of the gods head, throwing him off balance to stumble forward.

But it is fast Loki regains himself, turning, eyes blazing and bright.

Thanos grins.

"You are fast, godling." He says. "But you are outmatched. You will die if you continue against me."

Loki's lips twist in hate.

"Then so be it!" He spits. "But I will not _yield_!"

Again, fiercely, he throws himself at the Titan, drawing his staff up and around in a wide arc, pushing his magic through to its hooked end.

And it strikes true, slamming with all the gods strength into Thanos' side, burying deep.

Loki's teeth grit as he pushes, dragging and turning through with the blow, tearing a wide gash along the Titans flesh.

Thanos grunts in pain, and for a moment, a brief, suspended moment, Loki allows himself to hope.

Maybe he can…

Maybe he truly _can _win this.

But as quickly as the hope comes, it is trampled, as Thanos grabs round the staff, giant hands crushing and twisting, and in a single tug, he tears the weapon from Loki's hands and out of his side, tossing it away with a vicious snarl.

"Insolent whelp!" He hisses.

And in the next instant, he has gathered his own energy and let it erupt from his hands, towards the trickster.

Loki throws his hands up, a field of his own magic forming around him.

Still, the blast pushes him back, his feet digging into the hard ground, sliding underneath him, and his teeth grind so hard they feel as though they may crack, eyes squeezing shut.

Thanos' energy is near overwhelming, and the god pushes back against it with everything he has.

He knows it will not be enough, and for an instant, panic blooms in his heart.

… Fear.

Thanos moves forward, increasing the strength of the blast, pressing.

And Loki's knees nearly give way from the pressure; from the strain on his own magic.

It is taking all of it just to hold the Titan off.

"Foolish little boy…" Thanos is saying, coming closer. "Did you think you could actually challenge me? _Me_, who is as ancient as the Nine themselves!"

Closer, and Loki collapses to one knee, hands held up before him, arms shaking with the struggle to maintain his shield.

He can't hold it much longer…

He spares no energy on replying.

And still, the Titan moves closer.

"As I said, you are your own greatest enemy, Loki. Your sentiment controls you."

Loki's eyes clamp tighter, moisture gathering in their ends, teeth grinding harder.

"… No." He breathes, trying with everything to focus, to maintain.

Thanos smiles, seeing him start to weaken.

"You could have had it all, child." He goes on, closer still. "You could have had power beyond your wildest imaginings. Master of an entire Realm, slave to none but myself, if only you had done as you were told and stayed at my side."

Loki's other knee gives out, crashing to both now.

Tears escape down his face, contorted in strained concentration.

"If only you had not failed me, as you fail everyone." Thanos pushes.

And Loki's eyes snap open, clouding with rage.

"No!" He spits, looking up.

His entire form trembles now, near uncontrollably.

He is losing this.

He knows he is.

Thanos' power is too much, too great for him.

And it will consume him the moment he lets his shield break.

It will kill him, he knows.

But it matter not anymore.

It matters not.

He will not yield.

He will not _cower_…

"No." He repeats, locking his blazing eyes on the Titan, unfaltering. "Those are pretty lies."

Thanos stares back, almost curious.

"But you cannot lie to the _god _of lies!" Loki goes on, undeterred.

His hold on the shield is crumbling, weakening.

It will not be much longer.

"You think… you think I did not know your true intent?" He asks.

Sweat forms, thick and heavy across his face.

He can feel his magic depleting, lessening…

"You wished only to use me as the prophecies are writ!" He cries. "You sought me as your instrument to the end of all things! As your tool to please your mistress!"

Thanos steps towards him, pushing harder, and agony sears through Loki, a sharp gasp tearing from his lips as he fights viciously to uphold his energy.

"You thought me too weak to defy my fate! You would have had me retrieve the Tesseract as your key to the gates of Asgard!" He struggles out harshly. "As your means to obtaining the Infinity Gauntlet!"

Another step, and the field wavers, flickering.

Loki's eyes squeeze tight, more tears down his cheeks.

"And you would have used it to end all things! All the Nine Realms! The promise of Midgard to me was empty! Hollow! As you would have taken it too as your gift to her! All the world tree!"

Thanos grins.

"Clever, clever boy." He whispers.

And his power presses harder, pushing slow through Loki's own, touching the tips of the gods fingers, white hot _burning_.

Loki chokes out…

"But you… y-you read me wrong Titan." He spits. "You read me wrong. I never… never wished to rule. I ne-never wished to sit upon a thrown!"

He looks up, eyes opening, thick with tears and anger.

"And no matter how you may have taken my rage and twisted it further, twisted it to _hate_…"

His magic begins to crumble around him.

"No matter Thanos! I never have betrayed my home! And I never will! I failed you on purpose!" Loki cries, voice rising. "I failed to retrieve your key to power with INTENT!"

Thanos rages, voice erupting in a deafening boom as he pushes one, last time, shattering Loki's field, his raw energy washing over and taking the god, lifting him from the ground and blasting him backward through the air.

A sharp cry rips from Loki's throat, the heat unlike any he has ever felt, tearing into him, beneath his cool skin, seeping into him and grasping, crushing, strangling as it latches to his energy and _consumes_.

He lands far, and broken, unmoving, an involuntary gasp tearing from his throat as his body fights to _breathe._

And he can't.

He can't…

He feels no breath in his lungs.

Another, panicked gasp, and the pain is worse than any he has ever known, radiating, burning, and he feels sure the very meat is being rent from his bones.

Thanos moves towards him with unnatural speed, on the god in mere moments, reaching down.

And Loki can do nothing, lying shattered and limp.

The Titan takes him by his hair, lifting him, face twisting in disgust.

"You have no home, little god!" He spits. "No place you belong!"

Loki stares back, the fierce green of his eyes faded to pale, the taste of copper filling his mouth.

"… I am… of Asgard." He replies weakly.

Thanos sneers.

"No, foolish child." He says. "You are an unwanted runt, a cast off from a race of monsters. Stupid boy! You defend a Realm which has no love of you! No use of you even!"

Loki's hands lift, grasping loose hold of the Titans wrist, fingers curling.

"… And still…" he says. "still I have more than you ever have, or ever will."

"You have _nothing_." Thanos hisses.

"… No." Loki replies. "I have… h-have a brother. I have a brother."

"He is no more your brother than _I_."

Loki's head shakes slow.

"He is my brother, and he l-loves me. He loves me Thanos, and that is more… more than you will ever have."

And for a moment, for a singular moment, there is a flash in the Titans eyes, of rage and hate and _horror_.

A flash of understanding.

And Loki smiles.

He smiles, because he knows, in that way, that one, small way, he has won.

And that small way is all that matters.

He is not alone.

He is not.

And he will die easily with this truth.

He will die, and that will be alright.

That will be alright.

Because he knows he is not alone, and that though he may have no home to return to now, he had once, and that place he defended with all he could, and all he knew how.

And that is all that matters.

And he has lived long enough, he thinks.

He has lived long enough.

And it will be alright…

He doesn't struggle, doesn't fight as Thanos takes hold of his face. Doesn't beg as he feels the pull on his magic, feels it being torn, ripped from his core.

Doesn't cower as the pain consumes and takes him, punching through him, paralyzing.

He is dying.

He will die here.

And it is alright.

He has lived long enough…

Long enough…

Long… enough…

Black begins to press in round the edges of his vision, and he feels so tired now…

So very tired…

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he is aware it is his body failing him, the loss of too much of his energy.

Somewhere, he is aware of it.

But all he wants suddenly is to close his eyes and rest…

He is so tired…

And he feels so heavy…

Everything so heavy and tired and fading…

Fading…

… Fading…

And then, suddenly, he thinks he sees a flash of white, so bright it is blinding, and instinctively his lids close against it, head twisting aside.

He barely registers the release of pressure around his jaw, or the way his body sags to the ground, crumpling in a still heap.

There is a rush of sound, filling his ears, so loud and raging, and he wants it to stop. To stop and go away.

Because everything is still so heavy and tired and wasted…

Until, finally, the thunderous noise begins to shape and form, and he thinks maybe the noise is voices.

That they are speaking…

Yelling…

Rage and fury and fire…

"Come to save your stolen bastard?" He hears.

And then…

"You are finished!"

And the second voice is so familiar.

So very, very familiar.

Like something he's known all his life.

And his eyes come open, only just, vision blurred and unfocused and thick with filmed tears.

He blinks, and blinks again, and again, and there are shapes before him, tall and broad and so, so strong.

And he blinks again.

And he sees…

And he smiles…

Oh, this is a nice dream.

This is a nice, kind dream.

To him the fates are perhaps not so cruel in his final breaths, if they would let him have this vision to look upon before he goes.

Odin…

All-Father…

… His Father…

It is such a nice, nice dream, Loki thinks.

His Father come for him.

Even if it isn't true.

The sight is enough.

And Loki sends his silent thanks to the fates for letting this be his last vision.

For letting this be the last thing he sees.

He thanks them silently…

And the last of his energy leaves him…

The world for him fades to nothing…

/

Thanos' power is great, Odin knows.

But without the Gauntlet, it is not enough, and the All-Father wastes no time in useless banter and idle threats.

He sees his boy, his _son_, there on the ground, unmoving, and absolute rage consumes him, nearly blinding in its intensity.

Dread tries working its way up through his chest, and he pushes it down.

He hasn't time for it now, as he turns his one eye on the Mad Titan, blazing with blue, glowing fury.

"Come to save your stolen bastard?" Thanos asks.

Odin sneers, wielding Gungnir.

"You are finished!" He rages.

And he says no more, gives the Titan no time to respond, thrusting his spear forward, all his great power directed through it.

And it is enough.

Even Thanos, the Mad Titan, cannot withstand the power of the All-Father.

King of the Nine Realms…

/

Thanos flees.

And Odin does not care.

He can find him later; deal with him then.

Now all that matters is Loki.

All that matters is his son.

His _son_…

Oh, by the Nine, what has he allowed to happen?

Odin goes to him, dropping to his knees beside him, hands reaching, hovering over Loki's still form.

And he feels his heart seize, frozen and sickened in his chest.

Sight clouded over by unbidden tears.

Loki is not breathing.

He's not breathing.

And when finally Odin lays hands on him, thick, strong fingers touching delicate to the boys face, brushing his hair aside and back, Loki's skin is so cold…

So freezing cold…

And the pale of him is fading, blue, marked and raised skin, spreading slow and stark, the glamour failing.

His magic failing…

His life…

Failing…

And Odin scoops him up, and holds the boy against him.

Loki is so small…

Seems so small…

So light and small…

Like so much shadow and dust and fanciful illusion…

Like the pretty and seemingly insubstantial castings he would conjure for the court, when he was truly but a child. When he would tell to them all tales of adventure and glory and joy, with his unmatched wit and silver quick tongue. And they all would laugh and clap and smile with delight at the beautiful illusions he gave with them.

Such beautiful things…

Parts of himself he would share for all of them.

Parts of who he was.

And none of them ever knew…

None of them ever understood…

Loki liesmith, they whisper behind his back…

And yet of himself he gave a truth none of them ever would of themselves.

Allowed them to see a part wholly of the soul…

And they never understood the beauty of it…

Of what they saw…

Never knew to grasp and hold it to them.

For none of them ever understood the fleeting nature of such beauty.

There one moment…

… And gone the next.

Odin presses Loki's limp and broken form to his chest, arms wrapping tight.

So cold…

So cold and small and light.

There one moment…

… Gone the next…

…

Odin weeps.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37: Epilogue**

His eyes fill with golden expanse as lids come open, slow…

Dim lit and warm.

Comforting…

He's seen this place.

He's seen it in dreams.

And in waking…

So many days of his fragile and pale youth.

So many days spent here, sick and weak.

So many days close to death.

Never quite there…

Never quite there…

But close as to feel the press of her cold and unkind lips, kissing against his skin, beckoning him, enticing…

The pain will be gone…

The suffering of your frail and tortured body…

The humiliation of such weakness among a golden and strong people…

Come with me…

Come with me…

And so many times, he had wished to.

So many times, he nearly had.

But for the embrace of strong arms about him, holding him near. Pulling him back and begging him to stay, to not leave…

To not leave him alone…

And for him alone, Loki thinks, for him alone, he had staved off the allure of deaths peace, and fought his way back to the land of the living.

For the one who had always loved him without restraint…

Loki blinks…

The golden, vaulted ceiling coming better into focus, clearing.

And he knows this place.

He knows it well as any place from his youth.

The place he had felt himself so many times brush against Nilfheim's door…

And then there is warmth across his brow, the smooth and comforting press of something soft along his forehead, pushing back into his hair.

And he hears a voice like summer wind.

"Loki…"

He turns, and he sees his Mother.

Looks up into her perfect and beautiful face.

She is there, smiling down at him.

Kind, warm smile.

True.

And he feels small.

He feels like a child.

"Loki, my son…" she speaks again, and he becomes vaguely aware of the feel of her fingers through his hair.

He blinks again.

Tries swallowing.

It hurts…

"… Mother?" He asks, and his voice sounds distant and rough.

Her smile widens, and she nods. And there are tears shining in her eyes, escaping a moment later, slipping down her soft cheeks.

"Yes Loki." She says. "I am here my child. I am here for you."

For long moments, the young Prince only stares up at her, face confused, as though trying to figure something out he can't remember.

And then he says…

"Am I dead?"

And Frigga's face breaks apart, crumpling as her eyes slide away from his, a barely repressed sob escaping her lips, a harsh shudder through her frame.

She holds a balled fist to his lips, stifling her tears as she shakes her head.

"No, my son." She manages just barely. "No, you are not."

Loki stares still, confusion only deepening.

"… A dream, then?"

And the Queen cannot suppress her sobs then, choking past her hand as again, she shakes her head.

"You do not dream, Loki."

Another voice, at his other side, and Loki feels a strange sensation drop down through is stomach at it.

He turns, and there above him, looking down, is the old and weathered face of Odin, All-Father.

And suddenly Loki remembers.

He remembers everything.

For a long time, he says nothing.

He doesn't think he can.

His voice caught, trapped somewhere within his throat.

_Silver tongue turned to lead?_

And he feels smaller still.

He feels like a baby under the gaze of this man.

Always, always… always has…

Until, at last, his lips part, dry and cracked, and he becomes aware suddenly of the pain in his throat, as though he hasn't been able to swallow in a century.

"… You saved me." He croaks out, and as soft and whispered as his voice is, he cannot keep the disbelief from it.

Hadn't that been…?

Hadn't it only been a dream? A kind, sweet dream?

Odin looks away, head giving a barely perceptible nod.

A moment passes.

Loki stares at him.

"… How?" He asks. "How did you… how did you know? How did you find me?"

"It does not matter." Odin replies, his own voice soft; thoughtful. "I found you."

He looks up again at his son.

"Reckless boy. What were you thinking?"

Loki says nothing back, the familiar clench deep in his chest at his Father's…

No…

Odin's disappointment.

Odin's…

Oh, why does he care still? Why does he care?

"You could have been killed." The All-Father goes on. "You nearly were, facing Thanos yourself."

Loki looks away.

His throat feels suddenly tight, the too familiar sting at the backs of his eyes, threatening, and he curses himself for his weakness.

Pushes it down.

"… I suppose…" he begins, voice strained and tight, keeping his face turned. "I suppose you've dragged me back here to commence with my punishment?"

There is a heavy moment of silence.

Almost suffocating.

Loki's eyes close, waiting for the answer he is sure to come.

He's only ever been a disappointment to this man.

"You could not have let me die in peace?" Loki breaths out, and he's barely able to keep the tremble from his voice.

"… No, Loki." Odin at last replies.

And his voice is sad.

Loki feels his hands clench, nails biting into the skin of his palms, body tense.

Of course…

Of course…

"You have suffered enough, my son." Odin goes on suddenly.

Loki turns to him, for a moment, expression uncomprehending.

Odin regards him back carefully.

"… I have seen the truth." He says. "In a dream. What Thanos made you suffer. How… how you were tortured, and still, you did not betray your home. Still, you sought to protect Asgard."

Loki says nothing. Staring.

"… I have been a fool, my son." The All-Father continues. "Such a fool. And…"

Finally, he looks away again, eye closing.

Loki feels his breath hitch in his chest as he watches the single tear, slip down Odin's cheek.

"You make me proud, my son. You make me proud."

Loki doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand.

"… Why?" He asks without meaning to. The words press past his lips on their own.

Odin turns back.

"Because you are a good son." He says, and his voice is sure, strong. "You have always been."

Loki turns away.

He doesn't understand.

"… No." He says, and his voice cracks.

"Loki…"

Odin reaches out, calloused and thick fingers touching gently his cheek, turning his face back.

Loki keeps his eyes closed, and damns the tears which slip from behind his lids, hands lifting to cover his face.

Odin pulls them away.

"I never have told you so." He says so quietly, the words are almost lost in the air.

But they reach Loki's ears. They reach.

"I have never told you of my awe at your gifts Loki." Odin presses, determined. "At your mastery of magic and unmatched intellect. Of your bravery and spirit, your loyalty to Asgard and her people. I have never told you of the pride I felt for you, and do. Though always it has been there."

"… No." Loki chokes again, and he tries weakly to pull his wrists free of Odin's grip. "No, you do not." He cries, staring away.

Frigga turns, overwhelmed.

Odin lets his own tears fall, free.

"I am ashamed of myself Loki. You are not as your brother. Always have I known this. And still yet, I tried to force you into that role. Punishing you when you could not be, because I did not understand. I did not understand why you were the way you were. It frightened me Loki. You frightened me, with your great power, and your mind. With your unchecked potential. I was afraid to let it grow. And I am ashamed."

"Why are you doing this?" Loki asks, still refusing to meet Odin's gaze. "Why?"

"Because, Loki…" Odin says. "Because I love you. I have always loved you. As much as any Father could ever love a son. In my stubborn and set ways, I just did not know how to say it. And that is my own weakness. My own failure. You needed more attention than Thor. You needed more assurance. You were too aware, too sensitive to accept things without proof. And I failed to give it. And I am sorry. I am sorry Loki."

Loki can feel himself tensing, painfully, trying so hard not to shake. Not to cry.

He will _not _cry.

He will _not _be weak.

_Damn it all_.

He says nothing, trying desperately to hold himself together.

He keeps his eyes closed, struggling, throat tight, and he knows if he speaks, he won't be able to stop it.

Odin lets go of his wrists, and a moment later, he feels the rough palm of his hand slip against his own, fingers wrapping around.

"I do not expect you to forgive me right away Loki." Odin says. "I do not expect you to ever forgive me, even. But please, my son, know that I speak the truth now. Know that I do. And know that, hence forth, I will do all in my power to make up for my mistakes with you. I cannot change what has been done. I cannot take away the pain I have caused you. But if you will allow me the chance, Loki, I would mean to set things right. I would mean to do right by you _now_."

The space between them falls silent then.

Stretches long and unyielding.

Loki does not say anything.

He does not move.

Does not look at Odin.

At Frigga, his Mother.

Does not.

His mind fights, trying to hear the lie, to pick it out of the All-Fathers words.

He doesn't want to let himself believe them.

He doesn't.

And he hates himself for knowing it's because he so desperately _does_.

And oh, what wretched, unbearable pain will consume him when the words are found out for artifice.

Oh, he does not want to feel such pain ever, ever again.

Please, please, please…

He does not want to believe.

Does not want to hope.

But oh, gods, how he does, he does, he _does_.

He says nothing.

Does not look at Odin.

But then the All-Father feels it.

The barely there tightening of long, white, thin, thin fingers around his hand.

And he smiles.

That is all he needs to know his boy has heard him.

And he hesitates not then as he leans forward, pressing his lips to Loki's temple.

And if a muffled whimper escapes past Loki's lips, he says nothing of it.

/

A long while more passes between them all in silence, Frigga running her hand delicately through her youngest sons hair, Odin sitting, quiet, hand still held in Loki's.

Until finally, the young Prince stirs, and he asks in a rough voice, heavy with the struggle against tears.

"Thor? Is he…?" He begins to sit up, wavering and weak, arms shaking as he plants his palms against the soft bed.

"He is here, Loki." Frigga answers him quietly, placing her hands against his shoulders and pushing him back down. "You must not strain yourself my son. Your magic is still near depleted, and it will be days yet before you are well enough to stand."

She motions with a nod towards the doors.

"Thor waits for you, out in the hall. He has not left your side in this past week. Your Father and I practically were made to force him out to gather some food and rest for himself."

Loki glances to her, eyes beseeching with the unspoken request.

And she smiles, nodding.

"We will send for him."

And her and Odin stand, moving away, towards the great doors of the healing rooms, going to find their other son, Loki watching without words.

/

The two of them sit together in silence.

No words need be spoken here.

Not anymore.

Together they sit, and hold on.

Strong arms wrapped round a thin torso, holding against a broad chest.

Slighter arms round a thick neck, face pressed, buried against a shoulder.

Cheek rested against soft, black hair.

Loki trembles.

And Thor holds tight.

No words need be spoken here.

Two brothers…

Bonded in pain…

Bonded in rage…

Bonded in hate…

And in love…

Two brothers…

Bonded forever…

No words need be spoken here.

Everything alright.

Everything alright for this…

The End

/

**AN: So, that's a wrap guys. No, I didn't kill Loki, because damn it, who has the heart to actually do that? Gah. But I'm glad I was able to keep you guys on the edge of your seat for a while there.**

**I can't thank you all enough for all of your support for this story. When I started it, I never imagined it would gain the kind of audience it did, and wasn't even sure I would be able to finish it.**

**But there it is, and I'm so very glad you all liked it as much as you did. I had an absolute blast writing it, and I'm sad to see it end. But maybe I'll do a sequel sometime. **

**Let me know what you thought of this last chapter, and thank you all so, SO much again!**


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